


Flutist, Rebel, Soldier, Spy

by Dienophile



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Lovers, Espionage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-01-06 05:31:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21221387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dienophile/pseuds/Dienophile
Summary: Modern Setting with a younger Vernon Roche trying to unravel a plot, however has some help from an enemy along the way.





	1. Chapter 1

It was another mostly quiet day, not pleasant but tense. The sort of day where everyone avoided eye contact, lest they be yelled at. Intelligence was dangerous game at the best of times, but these days it was more like playing a constantly losing hand. Having loaded dice rolled against you. Moments like this forced people into acting poorly, mostly towards one they felt were weaker. To summarize, the Temerian intelligence agency was a grim place. 

"I am not seeing results yet." His voice was quiet, angry, but enjoying the momentary feeling of superiority. He stared at the young man in his office, deshieved, poor, but with deep fiery eyes. The man smelled of beer, cigarettes and cheap shampoo, wearing obviously worn clothes. He smiled, adjusting his own fitted shirt. 

"You haven't given me enough time!" The young man crossed arms, clearly irritated. 

"Sir. At least try to use proper titles around here Vernon." He let the comment sit for a moment, enjoying the obvious rage. "You realize you were given to me as a charity case, some beggar with no real education, but I was promised results. Might as well start earning the belief placed in you. Or perhaps you prefer living on the streets." 

"I just need more time." The man hissed through his teeth, clearly losing his composure. 

"You've had nothing but time. I have to give his Majesty a report this week do not want to disappoint. Now leave, you have an elvish resistance to catch." The man waved the young spy out of his office. 

"Heard you got chewed out again. It's bullshit." Thaler joined the man at a table, plunking his own drink down. The bar looked empty at this time of night, well except for the black cloud settling over a disgruntled spy. 

"He wants the entire fucking squirrel force just dropped into his office, maybe all smiling and in fuzzy fucking handcuffs. He sits on his lazy fucking ass and makes impossible demands." Roche took a swing of his own drink, clearly not his first. 

"Fat ploughing chance, they have eluded capture for years now. In fact heard a new fancy squadron showed up, managed to capture a whole train meant for the king. Starting to hit in the pocketbook now." 

Roche waved his agreement, "Fucking right? Still, I just need a piece of luck. The near silent pricks just keep jumping agents, don't want to risk anyone. Can't even get close, can't get anyone to act as a mole, it's like hitting a mouse in the dark. My men are walking around with a fucking target on their backs!" 

"So make your room lighter. Piece of advice Vernon, this job isn't about luck, it's about manufacturing your own. Any time you are lucky, someone else is the one who built it." Thaler shrugged, hoping his age old wisdom was not lost. 

"Huh, well fuck me I guess." However, the younger man looked thoughtful. He suddenly shifted, a phone going off in his pocket. He slipped it open and rolled his eyes. “Enjoy your night, looks like my group is drowning in a shitstorm.” He chugged the last of his beer and left. 

The room was dimly lit, it held only a few people. Thirteen was passing, obviously worried. He was scared of his direct supervisor on good days, it was said the man used to rip people's eyes out on dares. Still, the man looked instead rather pleased. That just made everything worse. 

"Sir?" Thirteen finally tried, trying to look as apologetic as possible. 

"You are sure you let it slip exactly like that." Roche demanded, moving towards a table, a plan already forming. 

"I didn't know she was an elvish spy sir I swear! But as I’ve now been followed around, plus the questions she asked... I just wanted to seem impressive sir!" He managed to choke out. 

"Yes, please tell us how getting your dick wet was worth your life. Or even more, our lives." Ves looked unamused, arms crossed.

"Calm down Ves, this is our lucky chance." Roche motioned them over to a map of the city. "You are already being followed, and by your current state I'd say it was pretty panicky. Normally I'd call it ballsy to be a felon wandering around the city, but it might just be our lucky break. Now listen, as I don't plan on repeating this." 

Ves looked confused, but walked over. Thirteen looked visibly relieved, and joined his comrades. The others exhaled slightly, enjoying this new turn of the conversation. 

"Now you still in contact with the elvish slut?" 

"Umm yes, sort of." Thirteen blushed, looking at his feet.

"Perfect, call her tonight. Tell her you are freaking out, panicking. Say you're too scared to come clean to your boss, make it seem real. Say you want to meet up, try to talk things out, figure out a compromise. Try to buy her off." 

"That won't work." Ves interrupted. 

"Obviously it won't, but he's desperate and she knows that. She's pick somewhere secluded to meet, suggest the alley behind Casimir's, that seedy bar. They have contacts, would be home turf, she's say yes. But we'll be fucking waiting and jump the bastards. They are too comfortable, time to act as the predators." 

"How will we not be seen?" Ves tried interrupting again. 

"Oh we will be, everyone shows up in gross clothes, nastiest you can manage. Look like real homeless scum, in a group of four in these two spots. Pull out weapons when I give the signal. Elves hate dirt and stink, they'll avoid us like the plague." 

"What signal?" Thirteen was livening up now. 

Roche smiled, too wide. "Scream that you're a coward." 

It was a chilly night, he always chuckled pulling the tattered coat closer. Finger-less gloves help close it, zipper having long since broken. Ves huddled nearby, dirt covering her normally quite pretty face. They all stunk of urine and rotten food. He tried to focus on breathing through his mouth, while shuffling looking up at two moving figures. Both tall, elegant, moving with purpose towards the alleyway. He smiled, feeling inside for the holder of his handgun, this was almost too easy. 

"I'm just a coward Cynthia!" A familiar voice yelled, he was doing a terrific job of sounding quite pathetic. 

Ves moved first, her eager to spring the trap in equal proportion to her desire to get out of this outfit. Well that and rub some arrogant smirks off some rebels faces. Roche followed close behind, closing off the exit, trapping everyone in. It was almost too short. 

Thirteen managed one good punch as the sudden attack distracted his aggressors. Two more special forces jumped out from behind nearby alleys, closing off all exists. The elfish rebels backed into the middle, but they knew it was over. Barely even a fight. 

"We want them alive." Roche pulled off a truly revolting toque while holding out his pistol with the other. "Surrender now you tree-hopping shits and we may even be nice." 

Ves pulled out cuffs, looking dangerous and thrilled. Of the five elvish rebels, they managed to drag four back. The fifth was a slippery bastard. A decent catch with no casualties on his side. Roche felt almost happy as he led the rebels towards his hidden armoured car a few blocks away. This happiness almost slipped away as he felt a shadow pass overhead. Someone had been watching them, someone had noticed. 

The bar was loud that night. The crew was cheering proudly, they seemed to be truly enjoying themselves. Roche smiled from a corner, sipping a cheap beer. He nodded as Ves approached, taking an empty seat. 

"So did we win any awards?" She took a long sip, could drink as hard as any of them. "I mean first real capture in ages after all." 

"Oh fuck no, I mean we won the esteemed privileged to continue working, maybe will slightly less oversight. After dropping them off at royal prison, got a nod but little else." He laughed, more sarcastic than amused. 

"No rest for the wicked I guess. So what now commander?" 

"Tonight we celebrate, tomorrow we struggle through hungover and the next day we figure out where the bastards are hiding." He raised a glass to his own little speech, thinking it quite decent for the moment. 

"A brilliant plan as always, you could take off if you wanted." She looked into her glass, but head motioned towards the door. "I can cover." 

"Hardly seems right." 

"You get a night off too. Go be a civilian." 

"fucking right I do! Alright, see you tomorrow Ves." He slipped out, with far more stealth then perhaps seemed necessary. Still he silently moved away, pulling on a jacket and half covering his face. 

The bar he found was dirty, seedy, full of people who wanted to disappear. They looked around, half terrified half desperate. Still Vernon managed to slip in among them, trying to hide as well as be seen. The man's name hardly mattered, he simply smelt lovely, something floral but masculine. He was a dirty blonde with big scared eyes and a wedding ring. It went as it usually did, something quick and handsy in a bathroom or alley then vanish without a word to each other. Still better than nothing. Plus this kept it anonymous, no need to worry about anyone finding out his dirtiest of secrets. After it always required a truly harsh drink and a long hot shower. Still he had smelled lovely, something better than that gross place deserved.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Formatting note, "-" indicated a text message, hope that helps!

It poured, easily soaking through whatever flimsy material the coat was created with. Roche just tried to shrug it away. It was at least nighttime, the workday over. Would it even be corrected to use the term employment if it was technically an internship? He had a suspicion that most real jobs would pay their employees, and not expecting them to slave away. Still most spies tended to come from good schools, with impressive families those with hidden away treasure troves. He had heard that Radovid was employing a count. Well sort of a count, his family background was oddly hard to find. Roche shook this tangent away, focusing instead on working his way home. A leftover pizza was waiting, a goal worth fighting for.

That's when the phone went off, an unknown number with the ID simply ‘watery mole’. He took a moment to remember the derogatory nickname given to a dwarven contact he had procured months ago. Apparently the contact wanted to meet, odd, as they had a scheduled meeting next month. It was unlikely the flaky leech had new information, but a good officer never lets a lead go unchecked. 

Watery Mole- Want to meet, soon, now. Tonight. Nonhuman district, known as the Circus. 

V.R.- why? 

Watery Mole- Have information, can’t text. Need to talk in person. 

It was a normal bar, barely lively at this hour but hosting all types. Still Roche tried to keep a hood covering the vast majority of his face at the moment, not wanting to be recognized just yet. The soaking wet nature of his clothes helped cover the rest of the usual attire. Still a dwarf was waving him over. He sat opposite and looked the dwarf again. He was red in the face, huge pupils, uncombed, unwashed and shaking. 

"Spent it all on fisstech already?" He tried to sound as disgusted as he felt. 

"Hoped you were planning on helping me." He put a shaking hand down on the table. "Come now commander, we can figure this out." His eyes flickered around the bar, unfocused.

"Fuck off if you think you're getting anything more until I get useful information." He leaned back, moving away from any possible contact. The dwarf smelt terrible. 

"Given you everything I know!" He was looking desperate, smacking the table with a trembling fist. 

"And it was all shit, could have guessed it all myself." 

"I know Iorveth is here." 

"So does every child on the street of Vizima, but I want to know where he's hiding, who are his closest friends and what's his plan?" Roche lowered his voice, looking around for eavesdroppers. 

"Why would he tell some mercenary like me?" Desperate now.

"Guess you have to try harder then. Don't get something for nothing." Feeling this was only leading to a dead end, Roche rose. It had been a long day and leftover pizza was waiting for him. He felt a weird mix of revulsion and irritation. A rough childhood had given him little sympathy for druggies. 

"I'll tell them about you!" 

"Go a fucking head." Roche moved to leave but stopped for a moment, "Before you do, know that I'm just as terrifying and much harder to hide from." He slammed the bar door, rain still pouring outside.

He wandered down the road away from the bar, too irritated to notice how empty the street was. Well until four figures approached, two from in front and two from behind. He looked around, noting how all doors were closed and the street was deserted. He allowed himself a moment to curse using side streets. Oh well, he relaxed shoulders, slipping a hand to grasp the knife in his pocket. He hated how obvious the trap was, even more so for falling into it. The addict must have tipped someone off. Cursing silently, he slipped a knife from a pocket up a sleeve, but close at hand.

"Vernon Roche, menace to our people, you will come with us." The closest one, elven and proud. He stopped around 10m away. A tattoo ran down his neck, definitely a squirrel. He pulled out a pistol, but slowly, in an attempt to intimidate. The two elves held themselves proud as the ones from behind continued to approach. 

Roche was knocking into him before it was fully raised, throwing the knife into his companions face. The collapsed, smashing hard into the pavement with the weight of the human and forward momentum. They were clearly not prepared for a clearly insane tactic. The two behind were rushing towards, but no one fired anything. Perhaps it was the fear of being noticed, or more likely the intense proximity of everyone making accurate aiming difficult. The two choose a more close quarters assault instead. Ignoring the prone elf, Roche kicked backwards. He had learned to fight were winning was everything, the dirtier the tactics the better. The four figures were groaning, one definitely had a broken jaw, another probably crush ribs. Roche crawled up, calling in a clean up crew. The one with a knife in his brow wasn’t moving.

"You will pay for your actions! Genocide is not forgotten or forgiven." One of them coughed out, spitting out blood, his nose broken. 

Roche only grunted, forcing himself to stand, wanting to seem a little less beaten up when the cops arrived. As such they barely let him just walk away, but nothing was severely damaged so they could hardly stop him. At this moment, getting home was all that mattered. Well that and looking up to see a figure watching from the rooftops, who promptly vanished. 

Ves had forced him to take a sick day, considering the massive black eye and bruised bones, he relented. It turned into two days, as the soreness only got worse. Still on the third duty demanded attention.  
Ves was running behind him as trying to keep pace with an irritated Roche was a challenge. He would move for no one until they reached his pathetic excuse for an office. Old desk, uncomfortable chair, barely functional computer and light with a filthy light shade. She stopped suddenly as he turned to aggressive pacing. He was holding chest, ribs probably still ached from the fight only three days ago.

“They’re our prisoners! We should have the right to interrogate them!” 

“Roche…” 

“But no they are moved to a different facility! They might know something, might help us! Some fucking noble gets to jump in and demand they be transferred. National security threat my balls! It was an attempt to take over this whole investigation just as we are getting close too!” 

“So what now?” 

“We continue just as before! Priority being finding a new goddamn lead, and a new information, possibly decapitating the old one.” He finished, a dark smile forming. 

In the end, the day ended fruitlessly. In pain and irritated beyond measure, it was perhaps time to head home and grumble there. Perhaps a shit piece of TV and a very cheap beer, that always helped.

He slammed the front door, ignoring the pile of junk mail yet to be dealt with. A shower first, then dinner. With loose wet hair, in slacks and loose t-shirt he went exploring the fridge. Mostly condiments, cheap beer and a single egg. Nothing usable, probably best to just call in take out at this point. He opened a very cheap can and looked around for any flyers. Perhaps one had a deal of limitless food for no money. One could always hope after all. He had put the one from that local place on his desk. This goal in mind, he journeyed over to the study/living room where a figure was sitting on his couch facing him. 

There was a long silence, Roche trying to focus on whether this was reality and he should be hunting for a weapon or if this drink had seriously gone off. Not one for thinking through actions before doing them, he turned, there would be a knife in the kitchen. Still he stopped as something hissed passed his face, embedded itself into the doorframe, a bullet. A warning shot from a properly silenced weapon. He stopped, heart thumping hard. 

"Turn slowly." The voice was musical, calm but with a distinct threat. As though the owner knew who had power in this situation. 

Vernon did, meeting his single eye. He had seen all the images, blurry camera pictures and witness sketches but neither really captured him. The elf sat crossed legged, looking quite relaxed, an indescribable elegance to him. LIke a cat curled up but with the air of always being ready to pounce. Half the face was covered in a bandanna, but the grizzly scar pocked from underneath. He was wearing tight earth toned clothes, a belt of knives went up his torso. Though the tattoo down the neck was barely covered, a man who was not looking to hide his identity. 

"Vernon Roche, how appropriate a pig live in a pigsty." He gave a vague wave around the filthy apartment. 

"Iorveth, the king shitstain himself." The window would be too far to jump, plus he was several floors up. The nearest weapons would be kitchen or desk in the far corner. The elf would be armed but wrestling weapons from him could be difficult. 

"You have become a thorn of late." 

"Ha, yes managed to capture one of your little gangs and took down a hit squad, a thorn indeed. I'm just a little upset, I was told you were this terrifying fucking genius, not an arrogant prick who could be outsmarted with basic children's tactics." He edged along the room, the desk would be closest.

The elf simply smiled, pulling out a butterfly knife, playing with it while maintaining eye contact. A cheap intimidation tactic. "I have become used to incompetent dh'oine elites, I'm happy to have finally been offered a challenge. Then imagine my disappointment when I discover you own no locks, are simple enough to find and have no guards or alarm system." 

Vernon cursed softly, all those things were outside budget right now. The job was an internship right now, they paid a small stipend so he wouldn’t starve, but hardly more than that. This whole place was built off savings from being a normal grunt. However this was hardly the moment to complain, the elf was clearly planning his murder and that had to be prevented. Perhaps a direct confrontation would be easiest, he might not expect that. Had to make him break eye contact, anger him somehow. Make him distracted. 

"Wasn't expecting the head whoreson to do his own dirty work, figured you'd send some of your brainwashed kid soldiers and I'd distract them with actually running water and food." He moved a tad closer, still keeping eye contact. 

That seemed to have pissed him off, the elf got up, eye glittering maliciously. "Most people aren't dumb enough to insult the man threatening them, but you I guess are a special brand of.." His comment was cut off by a human jumping directly into him. 

They both smashed back into the couch, forcing the whole thing onto the group, spilling the struggling pair onto the grounds. Roche tried to grab a knife, the whole hand holding down the elf. He felt something hard hit him in the face, trying to roll him over but continued to flail. He kicked but found himself pushed away, hitting the back wall full in the face. Disorientated and ribs in screaming agony he tried to crawl up, hoping to not puck. The elf had graciously stood up, looking at him from the otherside of the underturned couch. They were back to the start, human still unarmed but now seemingly in a worse position.

"You are certainly full of surprises!" The elf was laughing, but put a knife away. "I look forward to our future struggles!" 

He nodded and simply walked out the room. The front door could be heard opening and closing then silence. Roche struggled up, feeling irritated but mostly confused. Perhaps today was not his day. Still the elf could have killed him, why just leave?


	3. Chapter 3

Months and nothing happened. If anything, it was calmer than before. Roche found some success in working to fund a revolution in Kaedwen against the monster known as Henselt, enough that he finally managed to get a proper paycheck. Most had to be put into acceptable clothes to wear now that Foltest liked to meet him. 

It was perhaps a fault of the first meeting, where many other intelligence officers talked about Keadwen. Roche was there as a token, meant to stand perfectly still and not move, preferably barely breath. Neither of these requests played to his strengths. 

“As you can see sir, Henselt is clearly trying to expand north up the pontar valley. His army is well trained, properly supplied. He is unlikely to stop at this point, the man has the mind of a conqueror.” 

Foltest sat in the nicest chair at the table, staring at the map blown up on a screen. It was covered in lines, arrows and circles. He was clearly interested, head resting on one hand.   
“I hear he was quite the turbulent relationship with his court adviser, any chance this could be exploited?” The king spoke clearly, looking around the room for confirmation. 

“Unlikely at the moment, that is a pot that will explode without needing our help. Plus sir, i believe that the eventual eruption will cause collateral damage to all surrounding, best to leave it alone.” 

“Any other ideas then?” 

The room held silent for a while, everyone suddenly interested in notebooks and half filled glasses of water that rested on the table. 

“Henselt isn’t popular within his own people. While victories will aid him, men will get tired of this endless war. Best to help from the inside.” Roche chimed in, ignoring a dirty look.   
“We can’t afford to send operatives.” 

“Wouldn’t need to, they have the people, the motivation, just need the resources. That can be given over, no need to endanger any Temerians in the process. At the very least it would keep him occupied.” 

Foltest laughed pleasantly, “Your name?” 

“Vernon Roche, sir.” 

He got asked to more meetings after that, a surprise to be sure, but a good one. Foltest seemed to enjoy the looks of displeasure on noble’s faces. Or perhaps he enjoyed having someone around who never turned up their nose at a request or task. 

For all the possibility of real prosperity, it was perhaps not a good idea to find oneself back in front of a seedy quiet bar. Still all the honors in the world wouldn't fill the other needs, and now discretion mattered more than ever. He pulled the hood down more, slipping inside, checking to make sure a knife pressed against leg. After the last late night surprise, he swore to never just walk around with nothing. It was a new place, one he had heard of. Supposedly it was a common spot for non-humans and humans alike who wanted to keep a low profile. This meant the booze was considerably better. Elves may have multiple crap traits but taste was not one of them. He sat down, unsure of what to order from a long list of fancy sounding drinks. Perhaps this place had been a wrong bet. This conundrum was fixed when one was offered to him, something colourful with a lemon wedge. 

"From an admirer sir." The barman nodded and went back to serving others. 

It was delicious, lemony but not bitter. Plus the music at least was less popular, older hits. He tried to look relaxed, even pulling off the hood. Considering everything, the shower earlier was a good move. Looking around trying to catch someone's eye, but the barman returned, this time with something deep blue coloured. 

"For you. Same person, wants to say hello downstairs." 

"There's a basement?" Now a secret set of rooms definitely elevated this place. 

"Yes sir, stairs are hidden behind the bar. Designed for more secluded meetings sir." He had a very obvious grin. 

Curious, the new commander rose and move around the bar. Sure enough, mostly hidden but definitely a trap door. He was trying not to think about the multiple uses he had for secret passages. Or how his job three nights ago had been to remove a young lady from the king’s rooms without being seen, down a rather fascinating series of hidden tunnels. Forcing his mind back to current environment as someone was speaking to him.

"4th room sir." 

He nodded and went down. The basement was built like a covert hotel, a hallway with doors all numbered. An open door on route revealed a small seating area, with a table and telephone on a table. They must be able to call down orders. He smiled to himself wondering which other officials used this place. The 4th door was closed, but not locked. Not being one for patience, he pushed through, closing the door behind. He had to admit that he was far too focused on militarising this sort of set up to remember the exact reason normal people used places like this. 

There was someone, sitting cross legged but facing the opposite direction and playing flute softly. A pretty song. The room was dimly light, making distinguishing features difficult. Still it was obvious the semi hidden figure was easy on the eyes, a trim athletic sort. A little like a dancer, and elven ears too. 

"You called?" He moved inside, still holding a fancy blue cocktail, then stopped, the man had semi turned to reveal his full face. 

Iorveth turned around, putting down a flute and smiling. He was casual, no obvious weapons this time, though that hardly meant unarmed. He wore dark earth tones. A tight black shirt and brown pants. 

"Fuck." Vernon did not move. He vaguely pleased he had a knife strapped to hip this time, and easy access to a phone. However he made no action to retrieve either.

"Yes, I was rather hoping for a chat. Though imagine my surprise to find out that you would frequent a place like this. Made my life considerably easier, for that at least I could offer some sort of thanks. But you betray poor human manners, please join me." He motioned for the human to sit on the couch opposite. Roche noticed a bag at his feet. 

"Not a fucking chance, this time I'm bringing you back in cuffs." 

"I'm sure someone nearby can offer a pair if you wish them." The elf picked up an obvious menu beside the phone, clearing looking for a drink. He didn’t seem remotely embarrassed. 

Vernon tried to keep the red from colouring his face, but refused to loose the upper hand so quickly. "You'll want to shut that mouth if you want to keep your jaw intact." 

The elf smirked, then casual as anything lifted the receiver and proceeded to speak in elder speech, but the conversation seemed pleasant enough. He never let his gaze leave the human still standing. Finally hanging up, he motioned again at the couch. "Sit dh'oine, I wish to speak to you about something." 

He put a drink down and stood behind the opposite couch, passing, not willing to sit in the elf’s presence as though they were equals. "Fine, fucking talk then." 

"I wonder if you lost your manners while exterminating my people, perhaps genocide makes one forgetful. But this is beside the point, I am told you are working for Temerian intelligence and have something you might want." 

"What could you possibly have?" 

"Information, a certain group tried to hire or buy my assistance. I am not particularly pleased with this certain group so wish to obtain a degree of revenge. While having a plethora of ideas, I admit many are unfeasible. But for this particular problem, well, others may be tempted to offer assistance." He leaned back, stretching out. 

Vernon crossed arms, desperately trying to keep his gaze on the man's face and not his quite acceptable physique. "You want us to help you fuck someone over for trying to use you." 

"An apt summary yes. I would like to make them look into their guts." 

"Who?" 

"my distrust of you is not unfounded. I am more versed in spilling others guts, not doing it myself." 

At this moment a knock, a young elf can in and put a fancy drink down. They both stayed silent during the exchange. Iorveth gave a sign of thanks until the door was closed again. He muttered something about the ‘loss of one’s true self’ or ‘human’s pet’ as the elf left. 

"A toast to an exchange of information?" 

"Not in your fucking dreams, be clear in what you want." 

"Fine, well let's say that a powerful group needs to be punished but sadly this is not doable by just me." 

"So? Want me to cry for you?" 

"No, I was hoping you would understand the old phrase 'my enemy's enemy is my friend'. Those who decided to try a puppeteer me are no friends of yours. A collaboration in some sense." 

"Why? Seems like you trying to weasel your way into our information with nothing but words. You hate us, preach our destruction, I trust you even less. Be fucking direct or get lost." 

"I wish to hurt someone, and to do this I am asking the assistance of a professional in such matters. That is all." 

"Compliments? Out of character." 

"Hardly, I find you an intriguing human, have made no mystery of this." 

Vernon opened his mouth but found no sound coming out. This was definitely not going in the expected direction. "Last time, who hired you?" 

A sigh, he took a sip then looked up. "Nilfgaard." 

"Ah. Well I would like to throw days old diseased shit into Emhyrs face." 

"A horrifying image but I agree." 

"Alright, what did he try to hire you for?" 

The elf motioned for him to sit, this time the human accepted. The elf put down a drink and looked almost serious for a moment. 

"To help assassinate your king." 

There was a very long silence, well until Roche slowly rose and landed a fist into the table, almost breaking it. "Fucking what?!" 

"He wanted a small group of elites to help an assassin gain access to king Foltest and then proceed to hide them.. Were to make it look as though a top official had committed the act, throw the country into chaos." He tried to keep a calm voice. 

"Can you prove this?" 

The elf pulled out a bag and tossed it over, it was full of paperwork, printed messages and the like. However commanded their spy department had obviously tried to destroy the papertrail but it hadn't worked. The elf wasn't lying, but waited in silence for several minutes as the commander scanned through it. 

"Fucking bastard shit, I'm going to throttle him." 

"The emperor is a difficult man to dispose of. A reverse assassination is not recommended, but might be possible to expose him and most of his spies though. Humiliate him and destroy several key moles. The details of schedule and castle plans show there is at least one." The elf laughed in a way that showed no amusement.

"Fuck you're right." Roche had gone a little quiet, but finally put the pages down. "This is a lot." 

"But hardly adequate, no names mentioned. It is a great deal and yet hardly enough. Ideas more than concrete plans. The rest must be discovered if anything is to be done." 

"Agreed." 

"So shall we cooperate on this?" 

"Did you give him an answer?" 

"Not yet, I tend to discuss some matters with my companions." 

"Tell him yes, and you'll like to pull the trigger. Doubtful he'd say no. Going to pull this mole out and skin them. Also why kill our king?" 

"I am not sure, chaos I suppose. A future invasion?" 

"Need to know for sure." 

They fell into silence. Finally Roche took another long swing of fancy drink. "Fine, fucking fine. You got my help, but only in this. Once this mole is separated into several body parts and Foltest is safe you are rotting in a prison.” 

The elf stood and extended a hand, "To throttle the black ones." 

Roche almost laughed, but shook. "Make them sob before hand." 

They broke apart and Vernon picked up a bag, "I'm temporarily borrowing this, need to make notes, copies, the usual." 

"Of course, going to invite me back?" The elf casual stood as well, pulling a coat off a nearby hook. He slipped the flute from earlier into a holder and put inside a second bag. 

"Invite you where?" 

"To your horrifying residence. While not remotely ideal, I suppose such things can hardly be helped. Hopefully other attributes will more then equilibrate the environment."   
“My house? Why go there?” He was struggling to determine the point of this sudden change in conversation while continuing to move towards the door and leave. 

“Yes of course, you have shown yourself to be capable, more than I expected any pathetic human to be. A dying breed your type. I was hoping to end the evening in your bed.” 

He stopped, one hand on a doorknob, "Bed?" 

The elf laughed, "I had heard humans speak only of their cocks, but had no idea they were so clueless. Sex Roche, does it ring a bell?" 

"Fuck off." 

"Is that a yes?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning that stuff might get a little explicit in subsequent chapters.


	4. Chapter 4

It should have been a no, should have been a reiteration of the policy of not taking wanted felons into ones house. However such logical deductions are rarely employed when thinking about sex. As such, Roche wandered home, heart racing, knowing that another was following hidden in shadow. It was almost too easy to focus on a long elegant body rather than the infamous history that surrounded it. It hardly helped that the vast majority of his recent history in terms of erotic encounters were rushed, sordid affairs. This slight elation mixed with arousal took a hard turn when unlocking his front door as he remembered his shitty little apartment, and truly terrible bed. Nothing was clean, well not at the moment. The desk was organised, but it always was. The bed was half covered in dirty clothes and bathroom was almost worse. While knowing that most squirrels were rumored to live in the woods, they were still elves. Elves were renowned for their ideals of cleanliness.

He sighed but went in and closed the door, perhaps the horror of his abode would solve the problem of an alluring and definitely dangerous elf. Feeling the currently inability to turn the elf’s attention away, perhaps the sheer horror of his place could. Still he put a bag aside and moved inside. The lack of sound behind him seemed to confirm this theory. Dejected, he closed the main door and moved into his bedroom. 

"You humans really live in filth." Roche jumped, angry at himself for not hearing elf leap through the window and into his bedroom. "You should lock your windows." 

"I'm six fucking stories up!" So he had been followed after all. 

"I am quite aware.Your downstairs neighbours have a horrifying kitchen." The elf looked around, obviously displeased with the surroundings. “You live like this?”

“You can leave if you fucking want. Aren’t exactly nail to the floor.” This wasn’t going as smoothly as planned. 

Instead of leaving, the elf moved inside, pushing the window shut behind him. His one good eye was hardly blinking, but stared intently at the man in front of him. Still holding eye contact, he approached, and gently slipped a hand onto the other’s hip. The deliberate slowness of the action, as though to calm the human, prevent him from freaking out. Having been given no signs of discomfort, the elf continued bring himself closer. Finally using his other free hand to grasp a handful of brown hair and pull the human into a kiss. 

Perhaps it was the last straw keeping Roche in control. The elf was warm against him, his mouth soft and inviting. He pulled the man close, grabbing at him, the kiss quickly morphing from something almost sweet to near violent. Neither wanted to lose an ounce of dominance, so instead they fought for control. Roche felt the elf finally relent once he chewed on the elf’s lower lip, causing a long moan. The elf even sounded elegant, musical even. The commander hated how the voice was making blood pool in his cock. 

The elf finally broke the kiss, focusing instead on trying to pull up the commander’s shirt, desperate to get hands on skin. Once pulling the T-shirt away, he gently pushed the commander away. He pulled off his own top immediately after, quickly closing the distance again. Roche let himself run hands over a muscled torso and toned back, all highlighted with a delicate tattoo running down his chest. The commander felt almost lost about how to proceed with such a beautiful creature in his presence. The elf it seems, had no such reservations and pushed the man back on his bed. He quickly joined him, throwing aside some dirty clothes. 

Vernon felt his pants tighten, damn this beautiful creature. He didn't speak but joined him, eager to touch something, anything at this point. The elf smelt lovely, but felt better. Soft skin, warm to the touch and every moment graceful. He made lovely sounds as last of clothes were pulled away. Now, he lay naked, one hand fisting dark brown hair. Roche lay above him, using knees and elbows to leverage himself to allow better access to touching the creature below. The elf's hard member begged for attention against his leg but it could wait a moment longer. He instead worked his way up a neck, kissing and nipping, enjoying the sounds of pleasure and impatience. Hoping to provoke that kind of reaction again, the human leaned up and bite the tip of the elf’s ear. 

“Bloed gods dh’oine.” The elf open mouth panted, pulling him closer. He was actively grinding against the human’s body now. 

Roche sat up, hurriedly and uncoordinated, trying to pull away the rest of his own clothes. His own prick becoming uncomfortably tight in pants. This level of foreplay was already far beyond anything he was used to, and the wanting was becoming overwhelming. The elf rolled on top of the human, his weight resting wonderfully on the humans length, and going back to kisses. 

"Vernon, you have supplies?" 

"Supplies?" Roche mumbled back, he had not even noticed the casual use of his first name. The now gently rolling elven weight was far too distracting.

"I would like to mount you, but did not bring anything to help with me." The elf rolled away, looking for a bedside table. "Where should I look?" 

"Second drawer, wait what?!" 

A small sound of triumph as he pulled a bottle of lubricant out, and place down nearby, moving back to the human. "I shall make it feel pleasant, but your warmth is far too inviting." 

It should have been another no, an ideal time to tell him to get lost. This had gone far enough as it was. Perhaps too far, but Roche barely cared anymore. The thought of this ending was more unbearable then contemplating the consequences. Still, Vernon gripped sheets for dear life, the elf hadn't lied. He was quite good at this, problematically good. Long powerful fingers gently opened him up, curling up to cause pleasure to shoot up through his body. As glorious as the sensations, it was more watching Iorveth that was the problem. Most previous partners took to the act of sex as something a little filthy, almost violent. He had never had a partner that made it seem well beautiful, who looked so perfectly elegant. It was mesmerizing and deeply sexy. 

"You are so very warm human." The elf purred as he thrust in, running one hand up Roche's abdomen, feeling muscles clench. “Tight and gloriously warm.” 

Vernon could only groan, he hated to realize how close he already was, so soon after having started. He closed eyes, hoping that not seeing would help last longer. The elf continued to stare, pleased at the look of pleasure on the human's face, how his breath had become soft panting how he shivered as the elf pushed inside. By the look of things the human would not last much longer, perhaps he had not been bedded in a while. A foolish thought considering how very pleasing he was, but humans could be foolish about such things. They may not appreciate the way a blush ran up his body, how body moved with every thrust or how his body turned into a near furnace inside. 

"Cum Roche." A suggestion, a request and an order, all rolled into one. Simple enough to follow.  
The elf enjoyed the spasming body around him, before chasing his own completion, their panting moving to the same rhythm. 

The elf cleaned up in silence, leaving the warm panting human still in bed. It was too tempting to join him, curl up and fall asleep clinging to his warmth and smell. But not yet, they weren’t there yet. He left instead, jumping out into the now chilly night. 

"Fuck this is insane." Thaler sipped some black coffee, flipping through files, his normally jovial face quite stern. "Why kill Foltest?" 

He sat in the commander’s new office. Along with a proper title meant an office with a door. It was poorly decorated and technology that was probably brought up from the basement, but it was an office. He could see the slight pride Roche had sitting behind a real desk. It might have almost been a pleasant morning if not for the pile of files in front of him. 

"Not sure yet. They are halfway through a decent treaty, the ambassador isn’t exactly liked but is building his reputation. Peaceful relations have never been better between us." Roche leaned back, trying to get comfortable, feeling distinctly sore this morning.

"Who have you told?" Thaler turned over paper, letting loose a small torrent of impressively diverse curse words. 

"You're the first, need to not cause an international panic. Plus think this could be used to our advantage." Roche looked around his own office, checking again he had closed windows and drawn curtains. 

"Damn straight, this whole thing reeks of a mole. One really powerful one or several minor ones, not sure which is worse, frankly. Need to be extra careful. Now where the fuck did you get all of this? Half of it is in elder speech too." Thaler waved at the earth toned bag that held the files, with obvious elvish embroidery. 

"A source." He hoped his expression was neutral, his back giving another pang of discomfort. 

"No names?" 

"Prefer not to, can't lose it. Valuable source" 

"Hmmm, well can't ploughing argue with that. So what do you suggest?" 

"Something bad, something fucking horrible, maybe shoving their balls into their own fucking throats." Roche leaned back, shifting again. 

"Sounds like you, well you are supposed to meet his majesty later. Going to mention this?" 

"Not yet, don't want to him to panic until we have a plan at least." 

"Hmm, so you're thinking to keep pretending like it's all playing in Emhyr's hands for the moment. The prick, well how about we ask for something detailed from the mole. Maybe a schematic." 

"A schedule would be easier, wait, fuck I got it!" Roche slammed a hand on the table. "Foltest has a secret hallway that connects to a room downstairs, meant for women to visit, shit like that. However it’s a secret, barely used, not on these maps at all. Its modeled after a very similar tunnel built into the now royal library, collapsed in places but should be in very old schematics. Well if we picked up all the old plans about the castle we can control them. Alter them, move the tunnel around that library, make the entrance different by a few meters in everyone. Then ask the mole to look for secret royal passages, If he knows about the one in Foltest's room well then this is fucking huge, but if not we can correlate back to the image used. Like if it was two meters from one end then that would be the plan in the royal archive. That sort of thing." 

"Not plouging bad but how the fuck do you know about the passage?" 

"Foltest told me, helped him move someone out of the castle last week." 

Thaler laughed loudly, "Way to move up the ladder Roche. Still I like it, we try this out. I'll take the archive, you take the files from the treasury, they would have some records of filled in tunnels. Foltest refused to let us digitize them, so easier to get our hands on all actual copies." 

They both took long sips before Thaler raised an eyebrow. "You pull a muscle friend, you can't seem to stay still." 

"Nothing serious, jumping over something." Roche tried to keep his face as neutral as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is a bit short, but editing is a grueling task even at the best of times. Hope to have a longer chapter out soon!


	5. Chapter 5

It took four days to alter old records, moving the opening of the tunnel around the library. Each set of plans would differ by only a few meters. The palace had only original paper copies lying around so it wasn’t a stretch to find each one. Roche sighed, altering the computer to hide his presence in the royal archives. He had used a fake key card, but best to be careful and wipe the security footage. No need to let the mole onto their plan. Now it was a simple matter of asking the mole to tell me where the tunnel was. As the different archives had vastly different background requirements, it would be possible to trace the possible identity. The public archives meant it could be anyone. But the royal ones narrowed it down to those with higher clearance. If the person happened to know of the second passage into Foltest’s chambers themselves then it was a very high up member. Now that the alterations were done, they had to somehow get the request to the mole. However this slight problem managed to solve itself within the week. 

Roche pulled home, the sun had long set. The problem of running a secret plot was all the extra hours it required. Still anything to keep Foltest safe, he thought as running a hand down the silver chain around his neck. Foltest didn’t reward just anyone, and he wanted to earn that respect. He unlocked the door and pulled in, desperate for a drink and some food. To his surprise there was a foreign smell, herbal and delicious. A pot was merrily bubbling on the stove, a stew of some sort. Opening it caused the room to be filled with the pleasant smell of vegetables in a thick sauce. In the fridge was a strange new bottle of white wine, one with a handwritten label in elder speech. He couldn’t help but pull out a pistol, not liking the idea of invaders in his personal space. Even invaders that made food. 

Footsteps came from the other room, his house having only 4 rooms it wasn’t hard to figure out where the invader was. The task was made easier by the intruder casually entering the kitchen. The intruder pushed past to stir the stew, replacing the lid. He turned, an eyebrow raised, looking amused at something. 

“Going to shoot me?” Iorveth put the spoon down beside the pot and reduced the heat. 

Roche lowered his weapon, but didn’t put it away. “What the actual fuck are you doing here?”

"Thought if we were working together, having you die of malnutrition wasn't ideal. I have often heard horror stories of dh’oine nutrition. Perhaps your lives are so short due to the poison you ingest." 

“Oh fuck you.” 

“After, hungry?” 

It was delicious, a sort of comfort dish, best eaten with huge spoons and bread. Roche tried to keep the look of contentment off his face. It was far too long since anyone had cooked him dinner. He wondered for a moment in what circumstances the elf made such things. He had of course heard the stories of mass famine within the guerrilla group, so associating them with desperate dishes rather than thick stews. 

"Didn't know you cooked." 

"I have lived many times your lifetime, would be silly to have not learned." Iorveth licked a spoon, clearly a little proud, smug. 

"Fucking proud asshole, too good to take a simple compliment? " Roche picked up dirty dishes and moved them to the sink. "I was more impressed by the main ingredient wasn’t worms." 

“You dh’oine always tend to forget that we had civilizations long before you. We had art, food, music and culture far beyond anything your sad little minds could imagine. You may think you are superior now, but you are still but a pale imitation of what true kingdoms are.” 

“Iorveth did you come here just to argue?” 

“No, I decided to make use of your poorly utilized kitchen.” 

“Fucking fine, be secretive. In the interest of being the transparent one, I was actually looking for you. Need you to ask Nilfgaard for something specific to help our investigation.” 

"Didn't just miss my company?" 

"No, I could have scrapped road kill off the pavement for better company. However that aside, have you accepted the black ones?" 

"Yes, told them I would be thrilled. Promised to start cleaning my weapon in anticipation. Perhaps even finding that exploded, make the whole thing a real show. I am told dh’oine love fireworks." 

Roche smashed the plate into the filled sink perhaps a little too forcefully. He took a moment to remind himself that the elf was simply trying to bait him and chose not to bite. "Perfect, now ask for any secret tunnels into the castle itself, need all the details if an assassination is to be planned, want to block off escape routes that sort of thing. Or perhaps use it as an entrance." 

"What will that accomplish? I was also unaware of any sort of extra entrance into the palace." 

"There are several alternate ways inside, but none of them well known. As such the palace schematics have been subtly altered to move secret tunnels around. This way, whatever plan you get back we can at least narrow down the search." 

"A decent idea." Iorveth smiled but rose towards the human, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You are done?" He nodded at the emptying sink of dishes. He smiled at the domestic image presented here. 

"Um ya i guess, the pot should soak for a little longer. Can't fucking believe you burned the bottom layer." There was no anger in his voice, only amusement. “Guess you aren’t as good as you thought.” 

"Your pots are truly unacceptable. I have seen my brothers who haven’t had home for years with better supplies than you. However, I think it was about time to move to a different room.” 

“I thought we could discuss the plan for asking for schematics! That is the whole fucking point of letting you stay.” 

The elf moved suddenly closed, pressing the human against the counter, noting how his breathing patterns changed. He smiled, leaning up to whisper directly into an ear, “I can think of another reason for my company.” 

Roche rolled over, covered in sweat and still panting. Elven seed covered the lower part of his chest, his own was mostly on the sheet nearby. He tried to force his heart to calm down, make his breathing even. The elf for his part got up, graceful as ever to grab a towel. A bandanna lay on the bedside table, taken off early on. 

"You're mouth it seems has a better purpose." Iorveth was so casual for standing naked, whipping himself clean. He acted with no embarrassment, seemingly unconcerned with his obvious post-coital look. Perhaps it was just an elven thing.

"Oh fuck off." Roche stretched out, trying to keep a pride from his voice. The elf had clearly loved being it. The soft purrs that were made were evidence enough. Compounding this theory was how little time the elf let the human’s mouth pleasure him. The elf seemed to take pride in his stamina and wouldn’t have wanted to climax too long before his partner. Roche allowed himself to relax into his bed, well until a towel was thrown at him. 

"Clean up human. Is there some sort of sink around?." 

"Bathroom is the closest door, should be a shower and a bath." Roche wanted to roll over and curl into the warm bed.

"You own a bath?" 

"I mean it's fucking tiny, built into the shower but yes." He was far too content to hear the slight insult. 

"Excellent, I believe we shall couple next in your bath. Come Vernon." 

They had come back to bed after Iorveth realized how tiny apartment bathtubs truly are. Instead he compromised on showering together. He ran hands down the human's back, enjoying the look of contentment on his face. His fingers gently rubbed shampoo into dark brown hair. 

“Now you were mentioning how altering plans might help determine the identity of your mole. What if they notice how the plans in different spots are not identical?" Iorveth continued to work in shampoo, but his voice had regained its normal smug undertones. 

"Seriously? Asking right now? We just fucked." Roche tried to turn around to face his partner but was easily stopped by a hand and the very small shower. 

"I am aware, this is therefore the best moment to discuss matters. Sex is no longer a distraction, well shall be again shortly. Best to mention such matters now before we return to your bed.” He removed his hands and began running hands down the naked back. He moved his own body closer, both hands on the humans hips.  
"You prick, alright fine. They won't notice, well unless using a ruler. Most plans are fairly global and the difference is only really obvious with a ruler. Foltest wouldn't let us digitize old records so they are all drawn by hand." Roche gently leaned back, enjoying the feeling of warm wet skin. The feeling was starting to warm his blood again. 

"Good, then I shall make contact tomorrow.” Iorveth leaned around to run a hand up a quickly hardening member. “Back to bed I think.”   
Roche only managed to moan a response. 

Iorveth rolled off the bed, still slightly damp from the shower. They had become too distracted to properly towel off. “Speaking of contact, where is your phone?" Iorveth looked around for a cell. 

"Not a chance you're getting hands on that, it's kinda encrypted for a reason." Roche lay on his side, reaching to pull the elf back into bed. His body was aching wonderfully now. 

"You have a personal one?" The elf dogged out of the way, giving his satiated partner a quick grin.

"Ya I guess, in my pants pocket." The elf immediately jumped over and fished the very old phone out, cracked screen and everything. Raising an eyebrow he flicked it open and starting playing around. 

"What are you doing?" Roche almost tried to get up but was finding his legs still too wobbly. 

"My contact." He climbed back in and passed over phone opened to contacts. Added in was 'Fox' with a hidden number. "My personal one, for when you need to get in touch." He rolled into the human’s embrace. The human’s body was warm, warmer than an elves, particularly on the inside. 

"I could get people at work to hack this, trace it back to you." Roche closed the phone and put it on a bedside table, rolling back to face the elf. 

"You won't." 

"So sure?" 

"Yes, also I hope to visit again in a few nights if that is acceptable." 

Two days past, Roche sat in the meeting, taking notes as always, but only half paying attention. These meetings were normally useless affairs, dull and pointless. Still his cell had made small vibrations several minutes ago, a few messages. He was anxious to check but had to wait until the end. It was on his personal phone after all. They were going over the Kaedweni revolt, but it felt almost silly now, with a looming war with Nilfgaard. Well possible war, he still needed to make sure.   
He slipped away quietly at the end, no one in particular ever wished to speak to him. Back at the desk he checked, it was from 'Fox'. 

Fox -Black ones brought back plans with secret tunnel in bedroom, have coordinates on hand if required.

Fox -They want to start a war, obvious now, think they can win. Idiots, wanting to spread human vermin across the land. 

Fox -Going to need a long shower after that, your place? 

Roche cursed, relieved but furious. On a positive note, the plan worked. But the mole was someone who knew Foltest, was trusted. He promised himself he would catch this damn mole and string him up. He would pay for trying to hurt Foltest. He was in a revery of imagining cruel ways to slowly kill a man when the desk phone rang. He jumped, but recovered enough to answer. 

"His majesty's office calling, report upstairs now." 

Roche wasn't given a moment to answer before the other end disconnected. A buzz in his pocket again. He rose and walked out of his office, moving towards the king's office. 

Fox -I would like to ride you tonight. Pick up lubricant on your way home. 

He hoped the slight blush was gone before reaching the secretary, she simply waved him in. Foltest was alone in his regal chambers. Vernon stopped, he had never met with the king alone, there was always an audience. This was odd. 

"Come in Vernon." He waved to the chair in front of the desk he was leaning against. 

"Sir, you called." He bowed slightly then took the chair, glad it had been a few days since the elf's last visit, making siting easier. 

"This conversation is private." Foltest looked around, as though checking for intruders. 

"Of course." 

Foltest smiled, "Your loyalty has always been beyond question, which is why I have a worry I wish to share with you." 

"Anything Sir." He sat up straighter at the compliment. 

"I have had a bad feeling about a recent occurrence. As you know in two months is our spring ball, a large event by all means. Several kings are sending noble women over to try and win my praise, however recently a Nilfgaardian lady suddenly declined to come. Breaking off a very agreeable correspondence, normally this may just be a fling reaching its conclusion but something is off." He crossed arms, looking at Roche. 

"You may be right, I have a slight hunch that Nilfgaard is planning something big and unpleasant." 

"Like what?" 

"War." Best to be honest.

Foltest let out a long breath. "That's a huge fucking pronouncement Vernon, have anything to back it up?" 

"Not yet, working on it." 

"You're plotting." 

"It is my job, and will be to Temeria's benefit. However I am trying to keep it small for the moment." 

"I don't like being left of plots Vernon. Especially one of this scale. I need to know if there will be a war. " 

"Sir, you will be informed the moment I have a plan to act." 

"I suppose that means to start saving. Gods last thing we need is a large scale conflict. Still, I expect updates now. Keep me in the loop." 

Roche nodded, hating himself for not mentioning the assassination plot. Last thing that was needed was for Foltest to act foolishly. While the king was above all reproach, he had a poor habit of acting out of passion. It would be fine, nothing would go wrong. Nothing could go wrong, Foltest would be safe.


	6. Chapter 6

Roche left the office feeling gross inside. The secretary barely spared a nod to him instead of saying goodbye. He was far too focused on trying to justify lying to the only man who had ever given him an ounce of respect. Perhaps not respect, but even a tiny form of trust. He turned down the hallway out of the royal apartments when pocket buzzed again. 

Fox- What sort of food do you like? 

He sighed, playing with the phone for a moment. The gross feeling of guilt in his gut wasn’t combining well with the hope of a pleasant evening. 

V.R.- Not feeling it. Just leave plan they gave you at my place. 

The answer was almost immediate, leading Roche to believe that the elf was waiting by his cellphone. It suddenly struck him that he had no idea where the elf lived, or where he was hiding. He was a fugitive after all, a felon, a killer. It was so easy to forget. 

Fox- You are upset about something. 

V.R.- I’m fine. 

He started walking towards the underground garage, well the shittier version of it. He still didn’t have a pass to the proper one. Apparently it was coming in the mail, would show up anytime now. Roche had a suspicion they just didn’t want his rusty bike near all the fancy cars of other officers. 

Fox- I have a suggestion before going over plans. Meet me at the abandoned warehouse near the old Polyakov building. Entrance around the back near the water. 

Roche pulled off a helmet outside a series of very old buildings. This whole area had a bad reputation. They said that during the last major golden age, the old warehouses were used to store excess of textiles, weapons and booze to ship around the world. However every business collapsed ages ago. Now the hunking ruins stood as testament to better times. Roche grew up knowing to avoid this area, yes even street thugs stayed far away. Perhaps curiosity had led him here after all. As mentioned, a door was unlocked in the back. All other entrances were blocked off. Some said that cement blocks stood inside to prevent people from entering. 

Closing the door caused a massive echoing banging noise that filled the chamber. Instantly lights clicked off, clearing motion activated. Roche felt the air leave his lungs as he looked around. The room had been converted into a massive military grade training facility. A ring stood ready for hand to hand. The length on the east wall had targets set up for target practice, and considering the distance it was meant for an impressive sniper. 

“Like it?” Iorveth appeared, walking over with wooden swords. He looked quite pleased about something. 

“How has no one found this?” 

“Area is ignored mostly, helped fueled rumors to keep it that way. Plus buildings are blacked out so light won’t leave. Designed like a bunker really. Welcome to a secret squirrel training facility.” He handed over a wooden sword, looking smug. 

“Fuck, this is insane. I have to report this.” 

“We’d just move it. Nothing serious is stored here, plus we would hear you before you arrived and vanish. Now I hear you are acceptable with a sword, something I find difficult to believe.” 

“Better then you are, but gods damn this is….just fuck.” 

“You are upset about something or other. I find the best way to work out aggression is to embrace it. Now come at me!” 

He didn’t leave the human much time to think, hoping to catch him unawares. Make it a fast and brutal victory, he could already taste the bragging such a thing would allow. He was then surprised as the slash was blocked and the man lept out of the way. Instead of retreating, Roche pressed forward, not a man who played defensive. It quickly turned into a fairly even match. Then a series of matches. 

“That was fucking pathetic elf! You call yourself a butcher of men? One wonders how you even manage to tie your own ploughing shoes!” Roche jumped sideways, his parry forcing the elf’s sword to the side. 

“One has to go easy on such sad little creatures like yourself!” Iorveth swirled, his speed being his biggest advantage. He was finding the human’s natural instincts carried him. A natural born killer. 

“This sad little creature is going to wipe the floor with you!” Roche tried to stab up, but got caught in the elf’s whirl. Losing balance even for that split second let the elf press his advantage. The human fell, sword under his throat, a lethal blow. 

“That would be four for me. You are lagging behind.” 

“By fucking one, plus I let you win.” 

“I find that hard to believe.” Iorveth laughed, moving the sword aside. He found himself short on breath but greatly enjoying himself. It had been too long since anyone had seriously challenged him. 

“Smug piece of shit.” Roche clambered up, panting. He leaned back, trying to catch his breath. The insult was said without maliciousness, more as though such a thing was expected. 

“Quite, so feeling better human?” Iorveth walked over to the table beside the ring to pick up water bottles, tossing one to his companion. 

“I was fine.” He took a long sip. “But thanks anyway. Needed the exercise.” 

“Anytime. Well not really. You can never come here without me.” 

“You practice here often?” 

“Sometimes, need to keep the old fingers in shape after all.” 

Roche swirled water in his mouth for a moment, pausing only for a moment. “I heard you are the impressive shot.” 

The elf laughed, finishing his drink and tossing the empty bottle outside the ring. “Best in the northern realms. No real competition there.” 

“But, I mean the eye…” 

“Tactful as ever, such a human sense of decorum. Yes even with only one eye. I am not blind. That is the last I will say on that particular subject.” 

“Never said you were blind. Just impressive is all.” 

“Hardly. However I will accept the compliment.” 

“Oh good, wouldn’t want to hurt your ego.” 

A laugh, the elf folded arms. “As amusing as this is, I believe it is time to depart. Other will be arriving shortly. We should move our discussion back to your place.” 

“Why did you bring me here then?” 

Iorveth stopped near the door, pausing. “I know what it is to feel frustrated and burdened. I had hoped that some fighting would help. It has often assisted me in staying sane. While I may not understand your current stress, I do get the sentiment itself. I shall find my own way to your place.” 

It was a long ride home, the sun having long set and the roads were pitch black. Still it gave some time to think. The elf was right, the fighting had helped. It had helped a lot, for the first time in a long time his shoulders felt lighter. It was just bothersome that the elf had been right, or had called them similar. He took the stairs up to the 6th floor, and opened the door, wondering how the elf would show. 

The kitchen was dark, he collapsed into a nearby chair, too tired to considering making anything. He refused to move when the window in the other room could be heard opening and someone dropped through. Heavier than normal, meant he was carrying something. The something was a container dropped on the table. 

"You look starved." Iorveth took a nearby seat and pushed the contained towards the commander. 

"I am, as some son of bitch made me work out after a seriously long day of fucking work. " Roche pulled it open, noodles of some sort, filled with vegetables and chicken. It might have tasted like garbage but he barely cared, instead wolfing the serving down. Finally feeling human, he leaned back. The elf had been quickly eating a second portion opposite him at the tiny table. 

"So what plan did you get?" 

The elf pulled out a map from his pocket and unfolded it. It was hand drawn but poorly. Must have been dictated to someone from memory. It however held the tunnel in Foltest’s room. Meaning that whoever the mole was, they were important and close to the king. Well that was a problem. Still, it seriously narrowed down the options.

"Going to thank me?" The elf’s favourite smug voice. 

Roche didn't speak, he stood up and caught the man's face in a kiss. It deepened quickly. The elf seemed pleased with this, one hand already working shirt buttons apart. Not ready to be outdone, he scooped the elf up, pushing him into a sitting position on the table, legs open and Roche pressed into his core. 

"Really human?" The voice was slightly breathless, like just after their match. Roche loathed to admit how gorgeous the elf looked when he fought. Elegant in all things after all. He had wanted to pin him down the entire time, still better late than never. 

Roche didn't answer, he had loosened the elf's pants enough to slide a hand inside, feeling his hard arousal. He refused to admit he adored this, how he missed it when the elf was gone, how he ached during separation. He had rarely if ever had recurring partners, not ones who brought him food or seemed to care about his mental state. He sucked fingers, wetting them as the other hand lowered the elf's pants. He pushed the body down, moving his now wet fingers around the elf's entrance, teasing and testing. 

"Yes, Vernon." A breathy response.   
He went slowly, not wishing to hurt his partner, enjoying the tight warmth awaiting him. By two fingers the elf was moaning, voice raising as he teased the stimulating gland inside him. By three fingers he could hear nails grinding against his table. Roche could feel his own body throbbing with want, he needed this now. 

"I'm going to get gel, don't move and don't touch yourself." He was horse with want, almost running to get a bottle and quickly cover his cock. 

"Vernon, don't make me wait." 

He grabbed hips, moving to the edge of his own table and pushing into the elf. He was devastatingly tight. Vernon panted, pausing once finally filling the elf. He could feel the body writhing under him. It was intoxicating. 

"Move, gods move." He couldn't talk, but started to pull out slowly before pushing back in hard. The elf groaned, slightly arching a back. 

Roche felt hips moving to met him, and picked up the pace, driving towards his building climax. He finished with a long drawn out moan, filling the elf under him. He had barely stayed inside long enough to feel the elf convulse with his own climax after. 

He pulled out, feeling drained yet satisfied. His remaining clothes felt filled with sweat, the room stunk of sex. The elf lay there, shaking, still looking at him. They said nothing as they both stumbled to the shower. Once the hot water hit the elf got close again, not wanting to break kisses. 

"May I stay this evening?" He breathed into the other's ear. 

"What?" Roche was filling a hand with a glob of soap. 

"I wish to sleep here. After making love again." Iorveth turned around, offering his back to be washed. 

Hands ran down his body, but one came up in front, feeling up a growing arousal. A tongue began to trace a left ear, teeth nibbling along. 

"Of course you can." He held the elf flush to his chest while continuing to stroke him. The elf could feel the human, hard against his back. He had forgotten about cleaning at this point. 

"Bed human now." 

Roche laughed, and pulled the elf out of the shower, they made it to the bedroom floor before Iorveth was straddling him, pressing him inside.   
Roche groaned angrily as sun streamed through the window, signaling the early morning. He felt comfortable, warm, and a gloriously naked body was wrapped around him. It was a wonderful way to wake up, but difficult to leave. Deciding it was too early to do anything else, he slipped an arm around the elf's body and curled back into the bed, pulling the other's warmth closer. Starting to doze again, well until the phone rang, his cell. Groaning he leaned over to pick it up, rolling over the elf's body. 

"Who the fuck is this?" He even sounded exhausted, feeling the elf waking up against him. A hand ran down his back in a highly distracting way. 

"Good morning Roche, had a pleasant night?" Male, he knew the voice but it was far too early. 

"It's dawn, so please give me a reason not to hang up." Hands had started to run over abdominal muscles as kisses began running down his spine. 

"Well aren't you charming, this is Genovan, Foltest's secretary, we have met several times. You are requested at the palace, immediately. A car has been sent to pick you up, should arrive shortly." 

"Shit, sorry, I'll get there." He hung up before gently pushing the groping hands off him, and rolling up into a sitting position. 

A slight humpth greeted him. Well a body rose behind him, wrapping arms around him, a mouth finding the neck. It seemed as though the elf was a cuddler. 

"That's distracting as fuck and I have to get to work now." Roche murmured, but didn't remove the gently stoking hands. 

"This moment?" A soft purr, seductive and wonderful. 

"As much as I want to roll over and plough the ever living shit out of you, I do have to go." He finally got up, looking for respectably clean clothes. 

"Hmmm, well then." Iorveth stretched out, seemingly comfortable in his skin. He ran a hand through hair while watching the commander dress. Roche paused before leaving for the bathroom, looking back at the beautiful creature lying on his bed, light highlighting the toned body. 

"You look gorgeous." He turned, almost embarrassed at the compliment.   
A car was waiting downstairs, the driver looking almost confused as he climbed in. "You live here?" 

"None of your business, you just drive" He leaned back, trying to fix hair.   
It took a ten minute drive, he leaned back, trying not to fall asleep. Well until a vibration in the pocket. 

Fox-May I come back tonight? 

He smiled but typed quick. 

V.R. -Of course, want you again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much plot progression here, but more of that to follow!


	7. Chapter 7

It was a week later as Roche relaxed back on his couch, a stupid movie playing on TV. A half full glass of wine was the nearby table, next to a bowl of popcorn. The small plate full of chocolates was currently in Iorveth's lap, who in turn, lay in Roche's. His head rested on the man's chest, his heartbeat slow and relaxing. It helped that the elf was wearing only sweatpants, well Roche's sweatpants. He had given up on findings his own clothes after activities earlier. 

"Humans like this sort of thing?" Ioverth murmured, pulling the man's arm to lay on his chest. He was currently nibbling at something filled with hazelnuts. 

"It's stupid fun." Roche kissed the top of the creature's head, "Dumb action and all, kind of thing to turn the brain off to." 

The elf snorted, ignoring the obvious retort but refusing to let all criticisms pass. "The gun play is atrocious." 

"Oh I know, but the accuracy is hardly the point. What do elves watch anyway?" 

"Better this this garbage. We make real art." 

His laugh making the elf vibrate a little. "You'll have to bring your favourite next time." 

"Perhaps, but look at that! That sniper is using terrible form, he would be missing by a mile." IOrveth shifted slightly, the light from the TV made his tattoo glisten in the most favourable way.

"And you would know better." He leaned down to give a nip to the top of the elf's ears. 

"It most bother you as well, this is pathetic, just violence, explosions and barely erotic sex to spice it up. It portrays the whole thing as oddly simple, which granted against humans is partially true but misses the real point." 

The elf moved to lay closer on the human, providing easier access to kisses and nips. "I can turn it off if you hate it." Roche whispered, causing hot air to pass over the wet skin. 

"I would prefer to complain against your nearly naked body, make myself angry then go and plough in your bedroom." 

ROche laughed hard, running down the elf’s chest to rest on band of sweatpants. "I'd like that." He tried to sound even a tiny bit sultry. Not that anything could compare to the purrs the elf could pull off. Still pride demanded at least an attempt. 

The elf shifted, allowing the human's hand to properly touch him. Smiling, Roche slipped under sweatpants, running fingers around his cock. Apparently his attempt at seduction wasn’t going as poorly as expected. He gave the elf gentle rubs, enough to harden a member but not more.

"Fucking tease." The elf breathed, starting to pant slightly. 

He felt the elf squirm as a thumb began making circles around the head of his cock, running it through the slit. He almost jumped as a phone rang, but with a tone he was unaware of and coming from another room. The elf lazily got up, strolling over to a bedroom. A moment later the ringer stopped, and the elf wandered back into the room, pants revealing his pronounced arousal. 

Roche turned off the TV, he had never seen the elf ever answer anything. The rebel had been careful to keep his squirrel life at arms length, mostly. He watched the man quickly spill out elder speech, then frowned, clearly bothered. He looked up to match the man's eyes, and put the phone down on speaker phone. 

"You are on speaker, use northern tongue please." He sat down next to Roche, still looking a bit tense. 

A musical but static voice went through, "We got contact from our group on border, said they were told to let a man through. They helped him get into the capital, one of our brothers just managed to slip away and inform us. The man had stolen clothes of a royal guard, was looking to enter the palace.” 

"Shit, Foltest!" Roche jumped up, looking wildly around. 

"The dh’oine is likely right sir."   
"Thank you, bring my equipment to current location." Iorveth closed phone and rushing over to switch into his own clothes. 

Roche pulled on jeans and dark shirt with leather jacket, clipping on a gun and strapping on a knife. The elf was already rushing down the apartment stairs, he followed as quickly as possible. Downstairs were two bikes, both with people in dark uniforms. One through over a backpack to Iorveth and got off his bike, key in ignition. The other also got off, waving Roche over. 

"You have ID to get inside?" Iorveth jumped on, pulling a hood over his face. 

"Course, but you can't follow." 

"Get to a window and I won't need to." 

Roche nodded, and turned on the bike, then raced down towards the palace. He never slowed, noting now the elf slipped away before they reached the gates. It took several frustrating minutes to push past security and into the palace. It reached at head when Velerad, governor of Vizima, man second only to Foltest, blocked the entrance to the royal quarters. 

"You, what are you doing here, and at this hour, dressed like a vagrant?" He waved at the torn jeans and obvious weapons that Roche was adorned in. 

Not wanting any more time wasting he simply pushed past, cursing him out and moving forward. He already knew where Foltest would be tonight. The old princess’s quarters, his now dead sister. He liked to spend time there on warm clear nights. Perhaps chasing some old memories.  
The room was locked, not caring Roche moved back and pushed into it, feeling it break against his weight. Velegrad was yelling something, but it was immaterial. The room was dark, but Foltest was clearly there, back to the door, looking through what seemed like a photo album, sitting still. A door on the other wall stood ajar. A huge window light the room in an almost magical shade of pale blue.

"What the ever loving fuck!?" 

The other door opened, a guard rushing in, looking to be answering the royal yell. "Are you alright sir?" 

Roche didn't even wait, he knew the guards and didn't recognize this one. He pulled out a gun and moved in. While surprised, the professional never showed it. He moved for his own weapon, with reaction speed that would make any man horrified. 

A bullet rang near his head, but didn't land, causing the ringing to encapsulate everything. The intruder winced visibly at the noise, but fired his own, barely missing the commander. The sound had thrown him off, but it was only for a moment, Roche took that opportunity to crash into him. They both collapsed into the floor, and the commander quickly realized his mistake. The man was stronger than him by a mile, but more importantly the hit had caused a barrier around the man’s body to break. Not just quick, and strong, but capable of magic. This was quickly becoming a fight without a chance of victory. 

Well that thought lasted only a moment, as the second bang coincided with the intruder going limp. A clear shot. 

A light turned on, as Velerad cursed softly, looking at the collapsed body, single shot in his head. Roche rolled up, panting. 

"Sir are you alright?" Foltest just nodded. 

"Burgomeister, leave me and the commander. Call a clean up crew, keep it quiet." 

"Of course sir, but sir who was the sniper?" 

Roche coughed, "One of mine." 

"Terrific shot. I'll be right back your majesty, but please let us escort you to a safe place." 

“Expecting others?” Foltest looked over as Roche struggled to his feet. 

“Should only have been the one.” The commander rolled over the body, revealing wide open eyes, eyes like a cat. 

Velegrad nodded, looking worriedly at the window before closing the door, leaving Roche alone with Foltest and a dead witcher. Foltest leaned back against the couch, closing the family photo album he had been admiring. He paused a moment before rising to instead admire a corpse. 

"Cat eyes." 

"A witcher." Roche finished, slipping his pistol back in its place. 

The king nodded, "A frightening assassin indeed. You did well, very well. Call over your man, I should like to thank him." 

"He prefer to be in the dark, but I shall pass the message along." 

"I've heard your elf is rather flamboyant, so find that hard to believe." 

Roche opened and closed a mouth, not sure what to say. Well that silence held for a moment until the sound of wind passing through the window. 

"Please to meet you, well I suppose that's what I'm supposed to say." The elf sat, sniper laying across his chest in the window. He pulled down the hood as he lept lightly into the room. Roche felt the tension rise in the room, trying to decide what to do. 

"Yes it is, now other then bedding my favourite spy what have you been up to?" Foltest regal, was fixing his coat, as though no attempt had been made on his life. 

"Trying to stop your pathetic life ending early." 

"Iorveth, fucking behave." A snarl.

"Please Roche, let him talk. Firstly I would like to thank you for preventing both me and Vernon here from being killed." 

"My pleasure. Your death would serve no current purpose." Iorveth walks in, elegant and dangerous. Roche hated how beautiful the elf looked at this moment. This was the moment to side with a king over some bed mate. 

"Well then, going to come clean on what you two have been plotting?" 

Roche rushed in, "Yes, sir, look it's a long story." So he did, quickly, telling him about the Nilfgaard plot to kill him and hiring the squirrels and how they found. Foltest kept quiet, along with the elf. Odd for both of them.

Foltest let the silence hold still at the end, finally looking tired. "A mole, well this is a problem and one of my own nobles too. Now how did your friend get to my borders?" 

"Teleported.” Iorveth seemed suddenly interested in the dead body. 

“Help of a sorceress then. Yet another problem. Well I’ve heard vermin tend to be drawn together. Now what is your plan Vernon?” 

“We wish to route out the mole then find out the Black One’s real plot. We think it is war but have this rare insight into their plans. For the moment we have the upper hand. They don’t know of our little double cross." 

Foltest nodded, "I accept this, and the problem with the mole, but next time bring me in sooner. May I have a word with the elf?" 

"He is dangerous sir." It was a reflex. 

"I am aware, now leave us alone for a moment." Roche nodded, irritated but left, closing the door behind him. His desire to be loyal had won against perhaps his better judgement. 

Foltest turned to the elf, looking firm. "So what shall we do about you?" 

"I will bring down the Nilfgaards for trying to use me. What happens after that is none of your business. Though I suspect I will continue to trim the human weeds." 

"I wish for you to leave my kingdom after this, go bother Kaedwen for me." 

A laugh, "Why would I do this?" 

"I can offer supplies for you to bother others. Think of it as becoming privateers." 

"Why would I trust you?" 

"You won't but you'll still take me up on my offer. Act as pillagers to Keadwen and you'll have food to survive the winter. You get to act out aggression towards men, steal all you want, kill all you want and I get a pest off my back." 

"And Vernon?" 

"What about him?" 

"I wish to take him with me." 

A smile, "Take down this mole, discover the Nilfgaard plot, disturb their intelligence line and then fine. If he wants to, then feel free." 

The elf nodded, and moved towards the window. "I shall hold you to your word." 

It took Roche two hours to get back home, the clean up being the longest bit, sending the assassin down to the dissection crew. Still it meant that Foltest had been moved somewhere safe and calm was maintained. He felt exhausted after all that tension and adrenaline had died down. The house was dark, he cared not, not pausing to turn on lights to shower clumsily and strip. Collapsing into bed, glad he was awarded a morning off for stopping an assassin. A moment later, something was moving through the room, and climbed into bed. 

"You're back." He mumbled, tired. 

"I said I would stay over." 

"Fine." Roche rolled over, away from the voice. Sleep was calling him. 

"You called me dangerous." 

"Am I wrong?" Roche wasn't in the mood for having this argument. He was even less in the mood for being rolled over and climbed on by an elf. 

"Do I scare you?" 

"No, but leaving you alone with my king is different." He tried to push the elf off but he stayed put. 

"You are loyal to him." 

"Loyal to Temeria above everything." It was said like a reflex, like no thought was needed.

"Then how do you explain this?" 

"Explain what?" Roche tried to push him off again. 

"This relationship." Iorveth push down harder, one hand running a hand down the man's face. 

"The sex is great." 

"I am your lover not simply because I enjoy bedding you. While our sex is extremely pleasant, some of my favourite, it goes beyond that." Iorveth leaned down to whisper this into the man's mouth. 

"My lover? Odd way to put it." Confusion. 

"Obviously, we first bedded a month ago, and I have continued to visit. We sleep in the same bed every night for the past week, we cook for each other, and enjoy the evening together. What else would you call this?" He moved upwards, shifting his hips to push directly into the man's crotch. 

"I suppose so." He placed a hand on the elf's hips, positioning him to better grind into his cock. If sleep was becoming an impossibility, this was the next best option. Plus the weight was distracting him from the fatigue. He moved the other hand up the elf's shirt to run hands along abs. The elf was starting to pant. "Thank you for saving my king." 

"Fuck me then. I want to feel my lover inside me." 

Roche didn't answer, he simply began to aggressively strip them both, pushing mouths together, sticking tongue into the other's mouth. He managed to coat himself in lube before pulling the elf onto him, his groan audible as he breached the elf's body. Sleep had been forgotten, lost in the warmth of the elf’s body. 

"Yes, I enjoy the feeling of my lover inside me." Iorveth moaned, rocking his hips to increase motion.   
"Speak to me." Roche managed to gasp out, thrusting in time to the rocking hips. 

"About what my lover?" 

"Don't care, but in elder speech."   
The elf smiled but began talking, gasping and moaning filling the room with sound. He told the human of his favourite spot in the woods, how he hoped to bring him there, to show him the beautiful views then make love under the stars. He told him of a pool of heated water, and how he wished to bathe there in moonlight. 

He stopped, feeling the human reaching his climax, but wishing to be understood. "Roche, I want to bring you to the woods with me when this is over." 

"What?" 

Iorveth slowed his rocking, slowing the pace and prolonging the sex. "I want to bring you to my home, make love in my bed, give you true elvish food, play for you, and have a real bath." 

"Gods your beautiful" Roche pushed himself, finishing into the elf, hands tight on his hips. 

Iorveth felt warmth in him before allowing himself to climax onto his lover. He felt the warmth of post-coitus and pleasure of coating his lover, claiming him. While not the answer he had hoped for, it wasn’t a negative either. There would be time enough to convince this creature to stay by his side. At the moment, resting in a warmed bed seemed the best option

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies but this tale is going to contain some witcher 2 spoilers from now on, but mostly for the earliest chapter of the game!


	8. Chapter 8

Roche pulled around his new apartment, looking at the clean walls and large space. Most of the furniture had been just moved in yesterday, most of it being brand new. Ves pushed down a box, wiping sweat off her face, looking pleased. One hand resting on jeans that seemed painted on. 

"That's the last box, probably books unless you’ve taken up brick collecting in the last few months and never mentioned." 

"Bricklaying might have better job security, but books go in the library, last door on the right." Roche picked up a similarly heavy box and moved to follow her. 

"Oh look at you, having a library!" 

“More of a study then a library. More of a room with a desk and bookcase but fucking better then before. Think I might burn the old couch.” 

"I need to prevent an assassination, maybe then I'll get a huge raise." Ves sighed, looking into another room en route and whistled "Nice bed." 

"Ya first thing I bought too." He opened the box, pulling out books, checking their titles. He supposed a reasonable person would put then first name by author. While Packing up books it hit him how many related to either combat or history. He needed a hobby. 

"Beer in the fridge?" Ves was already moving towards the kitchen. 

"Course, help yourself. Grab me one too. Also you could still show a modicum of respect towards your superior officer." He was starting to put books on shelves. 

"In this real food in your fridge, sir?" Sarcasm from the other room. 

"Fuck off Ves!" He continued to work, sighing to himself. 

He could hear footsteps, she was clearly exploring. They had just finished putting boxes in the main room after all, emptying his old place. "This is a mini gym?" 

"Seemed a better use of a spare room. Doubt anyone would want to stay over at my place, unless they thought it would be easier to stab me in the back.." 

"Fancy you, oh looks like a nice bathroom! A huge tile shower too! Looks terrible with your ratty towels." She was clearly in her own world, and not listening. 

"New ones arriving soon." 

"Just how big was this bonus?" 

"That’s between me and king Foltest. Needless to say, our own team’s promotion to special forces was included. In a sense you took advantage of my hard work." 

"Didn't he give you a fancy piece of jewelry? Sorry, didn’t he give you a private gift oh honorable commander?" Her voice came from the living room, he could hear her trying the new couch. It was softer than the other and even a single colour rather than a patchwork of stains. 

"A necklace, and yes." 

"So is your lover going to feel jealous?" 

He almost dropped a particularly heavy atlas. "What lover?" 

"Don't be stupid, you've been acting all happy for weeks now. Showing up with hand made lunches, changed your soap, and not going out as often or showing up hungover. All hints to having a boyfriend. I’m not an idiot Roche." 

"I think he'll like the place yes." He continued to fill bookshelves, sighing, feeling almost a release of tension. He didn’t exactly like keeping secrets from her, but she could act horribly rashly sometimes. 

"Can I meet him?" She was in the doorway, holding two drinks. 

"Not yet." 

"Why? He ugly?" 

"He's gorgeous, but not the point." He took a drink, opening the can. 

"He's elven." She lowered eye contact for only a moment. 

"Yes." 

"Roche you know I don't hate all, just well..you know." She looked down, halting and nervous. 

"I do, and they are burning in hell Ves." He got up to squeeze her shoulder. 

"I still want to meet him, give him the old 'hurt him and I'll break your nose' thing. You do that to all my boyfriends, it's my turn. Plus, you can trust me with shit like this. You know that right?" She took a sip. 

"I know that your loyalty is unquestionable, but its just well delicate Ves. You’ll met him when the time is right. Plus fuck, it might not even be that serious, it’s all just complicated.” 

“Haven’t met his family yet?” 

“Fuck I’m not even sure he has one, we never really talk about family.” 

“Well, I demand to met him at some point, size him up, see if he’s suitable.” 

“Course Ves,” He moved over to walk past her towards the door. “Now to the rest of the boxes.” 

Roche turned out to be right, the elf did like the new house. This was perhaps best shown in that new stuff showed up, just a few items at first. A toothbrush, a set of clothes, shampoo and a hairbrush, all beautiful and handmade suddenly turned up around the place. The owner of the new items made his own presence known a little later on. 

Iorveth sat in the comfy chair in the bedroom, flute in hand. He was playing something soft and sweet tonight, cross legged and completely naked. Roche lay in bed listening, sweat drying on him. He could partly still taste in the elf in his mouth. 

The elf finished on a long low note. He put the instrument on the dresser and slipped back into bed, curling up around the human. 

"Beautiful." Roche let an arm curl up around the naked body, enjoying Iorveth relaxing against him. 

"Hmmm, I think a bit in the middle could use some work, the tune gets lost a little. However, the compliment is appreciated.” 

Roche ran a hand through hair, encouraged by a soft sigh it elicited. It was so easy to become used to comforts like this. So easy to let one forget about everything else in the world and focus only on this. 

"The international summit is at Loc Muinne in a matter of days." He forced himself to focus, while part of the mind was desperate to stay in comfort and warmth. But he had to focus, had to plan, had to protect Temeria. All else be damned, no matter how tempting. 

"Ah yes, a once powerful and beautiful city now to be used as a pleasant backdrop for powerful humans. Exactly what that civilization wanted." 

"You're coming with us." He let it be almost a question.

"Obviously, I already told my Nilfgaardian contact I would be attending." Iorveth let his head rest on the human’s chest, and rested a hand on a warm abdomen.

"Are they suspicious?" 

"Of course, but I can be persuasive." He let himself smirk into skin, knowing the tone of voice would convey his expression. 

"What if they find out about this?" Roche roll aside and propped himself up on one elbow, a hand tracing around the elf's face. 

"They are already aware." Iorveth hummed, a hand running up the human's torso. 

"Fucking what?!" 

"Best to get ahead of such things." Iorveth rolled an eye. 

"So then.." 

"I told them that I only had access into Loc Muinne’s quarters for Temeria because of a commander. Basically using a sad lonely man to learn everything I needed. " 

"Using me." Roche withdrew a hand, hating the feeling of anger flaring in his gut. 

"Quite. Seemed the most logical way to proceed." Iorveth tried to pull closer, giving an odd look to the commander for his sudden coolness. 

Roche removed his hand and rolled onto his back, no longer in contact. It was petty, but he did not care. "We still need to find a mole, one of the nobles. Doesn’t really matter to me what you tell the Black Ones so long as they aren’t suspicious. Let them feel whatever so long as they walk into a trap." 

"Of course, I am never not surprised at how very selfish and disloyal humans truly are. They assume that all others would be as well. Take your elusive traitor for instance. Clearly someone of some wealth, influence. Yet they still want more, willing to throw everything aside for personal gain. There is no higher calling in that, no purpose, only greed. At least Nilfgaard wishes to burn the world, at least they have an end goal. I might even argue it wasn’t wholly selfish to remove imcompotent to downright evil rulers." 

"Iorveth." Roche looked down at his fingernails, voice suddenly calm. Far too calm.

The elf pulled himself closer, head now resting on the human's shoulder. "Yes?" 

"If you kill Foltest.." 

"You ask me this now?" The elf tried to interrupt. 

"I would hunt you down and fucking gut you." The human finished, not looking at his companion but instead staring at the wall. 

There was a moment of silence as the elf rose up to look directly into the human's face. "You seem to be confused about this arrangement." The elf rolled suddenly on top of the human, using his weight to pin him down. 

"Confused?" The human tried to slip away but found himself stuck. 

The elf moved down, causing their faces to be close, but keeping eye contact. "I believe I made my intentions quite clear. After this assassination attempt has been foiled and the guilty parties suitably humiliated for trying to use me, I am leaving. I hate this city. I hate the smell of garbage, of smoke, of the filth of humanity. In my bones I want to leave, I am desperate for fresh air, for wind and the woods." 

"Then fucking leave." 

"Not without you. You are coming with me. We are going to Upper Aedirn, to ascertain this dragonslayer that has recently appeared. On the way, we will stop at my hideout and stay there for at least a week." 

"I don't....why?" 

"Isn't it obvious? My lover will come with me." The elf dipped into a kiss, biting and possessive. "And if you are that devoted to this king then he won’t be hurt. That I promise you. But not for him, not for his hatred of my people, for his casual mass murder, but because he matters to you" 

"You really do like running your mouth." Roche leaned back, allowing hands to run down the elf, resting on his back. 

The elf moved up slightly to straddle the human, now sitting on him. He ran a hand down the man's neck, tracing a collar bone. "You are no longer angry?" 

The human snorted, moving the elf to rest on his growing arousal. He groaned with the pleasure of the warmth and pressure. "Hard to stay angry at you." 

“I have a question for you.” 

“What now?” Roche felt a pang of irritation. 

“Is loyalty like love?” 

“What the shit is that supposed to mean?” He ran a hand up a well toned leg, hoping to remind the elf of their current positions. 

“You dh’oine always tell of one true love, as though it were singular. I always wondered if you thought of loyalty in a similar fashion. That it was meant for a sole person, unchanging and unshared.” Iorveth slightly rolled his hips, giving the human some of the friction he was starting to crave. 

“I mean, ya I guess. But also no, like there can be different types for different people I suppose. I don’t fucking know, go bother a bard if you want a flowery composition on the nature of allegiances.” 

“I care little for them, I was simply curious if you believed in it. I would like to know if you feel any sort of bond with me.” 

Roche stopped running hands along the elf’s body and instead pulled him for a kiss. “I know you belong to me. That answer things?” 

“Good, as you are very much mine.” Iorveth moved to better position himself. He let himself leave nail marks in the back of his lover, and his alone. 

"Are you sure about this?" Roche leaned over the table, staring at an expense report. It was nicely illuminated by the mid morning sun coming in through the windows. 

"Positive, believe me now?" A pretty blonde with corkscrew curls paced in front of him. Her outfit was designed to draw attention to her natural beauty. She looked a mix between anxiety and fear. She kept glancing towards the door as though terrified of anyone entering. 

"Why would the La Valette’s suddenly need so much security?" He focused on the paperwork rather than the panicking companion. 

"She wants to house Foltest's two bastards this summer. They are already preparing to leave." 

"It was already decided that they should stay in Vizima, this makes no sense. That was decided months ago. Why would the plans suddenly change?" 

"The movement is a secret, the head tutor let slip the secret. Apparently they will be leaving tomorrow with Aryan instead of a simple picnic. I mean it’s not such a big deal, she is their mother. Surely wanting them close isn’t a surprise. Plus as the only even proximate heirs the extra security isn’t unexpected." 

"No, Brigida. A small increase yes, maybe even moderate. No one needs an entire legion to protect that fortress." 

"This is hardly a legion!" 

"Not obviously it isn't. The numbers are hidden, little bits here and there. It's meant to be hidden, but she still requires the royal treasury to pay for it so the amounts will still add up to armouring an army. Plus secretly moving the children away, it reeks of treason. Will you be going with them?"   
"Head tutor demanded it. Not sure with which head he made that decision." She laughed at her own joke, crossing arms and staring. "You promised this would lead to big things Vernon." 

"And it will, you very well might have found the missing piece. Go to the La Valette's castle and lay low." He was already packing up a bag. "I leave for Loc Muinne in a few hours, keep in touch only if necessary. Have an emergency escape?"   
"Obviously." 

He left her in his office, half running towards the main offices of the secret service. Not waiting to knock, he burst in and closed the door behind him, ignoring the cries of irritation. 

"What the fuck?" Thaler got up from his desk looking pissed. 

"Has Foltest left?" 

"Vernon what the actual fuck, I could have been doing anything!." 

"Has he left!" A shout. 

"Yes, an hour ago. He went with his current squeeze Maria Lousia. Wanted to take a scenic route or some sort of bullshit. Don’t worry, we leave in a few hours as planned. You haven’t been abandoned." 

"Who's with them?!" He chose to ignore the slight jab towards his own fear of being left by another father figure. 

"Our guards, special forces the usual. Some servants, a holy man, nothing special. Now calm the fuck down." 

"Holy man?" He felt vomit rising in his mouth. 

"La Valtte insisted, been feeling pious all month. Our gracious king accepted it, some blind man who slouches. Nothing special there. You don’t need to know everything Vernon." 

Roche didn't let him finish the sentence before running out the office, trying to keep nausea down. He felt the cold creeping through every inch of skin, he had fucked up badly. Of course the king’s main mistress would know how to enter and leave his room via secret passage. Plus with access to the only passable heirs, she could easily claim a throne. It was so obvious, so plain now. He hadn’t seen it and now the king was in serious danger. He needed to get to Loc Muinne now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story should be wrapping up in 1 or 2 more chapters, thank you everyone for enjoying so far. I realize this is a long one, so thanks for hanging in there!


	9. Chapter 9

"Need to catch Foltest's convoy. At the garage, meet me now." He jammed the cellphone back into his pocket, still sprinting downwards. 

The royal garage was almost embarrassingly easy to enter, well without proper authority. Making a mental note to improve security, he closed the door, the consul under the keypad stilling giving sparks around the knife wedged in. Only those of “upper classes” were given appropriate codes, as they could also store their vehicles here. However, the castle had a large series of lovely vehicles all for exclusively royal reasons. Roche smiled to himself as he attached two wires together. All high powered and bulletproof, however that hardly mattered if the assailant was inside the car itself. He stood up as the engine started, pleased that hot-wiring as a skill could still be useful. The guard at the door had been highly unsympathetic to his plight, but a kick punch to the face had settled that score. Now the garage would manually open with just a push of a button inside the car itself, for the ease of the user obviously. 

Roche pulled out, not waiting to face any other problems, slowly down outside the main gate as someone dressed in all dark colours jumped into the passenger side. 

"What happened?" Iorveth lowered a hood, placing his weapon case on his lap, opening it. 

"Its La Valette, she's the traitor." 

"The king's lover?" 

"Fucking yep, she even specifically requested a blind holy man in the royal envoy. The one that left several hours ago." 

"The assassin." He was busy putting something together from parts carried within the case.

"Of course, now we need to fucking catch up now!" He turned a hard left, pushing down on a gas peddle. Sirens came from behind. "Oh fuck that." They were within Vizima proper now, had to expect that going this fast would attract attention.

"Does this roof open?" Iorveth he snapped two last pieces together to reveal a sniper rifle, oddly no scope though. 

"Fuck you aren't shooting them!" He torn down another street, they would be out of the capital soon. 

"I'll aim for tires." He sat up, opening the roof window, and propping himself up. 

"You aren't killing my own goddamn people! A bloodbath is the last thing I fucking want!" 

The elf laughed, taking a shot as they made a hard turn. “My aim is not the weak link here, now speed up. They will be easier to loose outside of the city itself.” Another shot. “Perhaps now is a good time to contact anyone you know with the royal envoy. I believe you are supposed to be important.” 

"Too late, if the assassin freaks out he'll attack. When are you supposed to intervene?" 

"At Loc Muinne itself, I have a group ready to hide a person and sneak them out. With room for an extra two if needed." He slipped back into a seat as the city gates were quickly approaching.

Roche pulled out of the city, never slowing. They had lost the pursuit at this point, but time was short for anything. He was still cursing under his voice, angry and worried. The elf slumped back, sniper still ready. They rode in total silence like this for nearly thirty minutes, as Roche raced down major roads out of the Termeria city limits. 

"Go left up here, it leads to a dirt road. We are switching to my routes." Iorveth pulled a hood up on his face. 

"Faster?" 

"Obviously." 

A hard turn down a disused back road leading into the woods nearby. Waiting at the opening to the woods was what looked like an dirt motorbike, several of them. Two figures sat down on them, both dressed in earth tones and armed. They rolled in nearby and jumped out. The closest standing figure walked over and nodded his head in deference. 

"Enough fuel to reach Loc Muinne along the Pontar sir. A boat would be faster but we don't have the time to prepare one." He spoke in elder speed, a squirrel tattoo down his neck. 

"Thank you, I'll go now." Iorveth wrapped the sniper around his back and jumped onto one of the bikes. In normal speech he turned to the human, "Jump on, the bag should have something dark to wear and weapons. We go light." 

One of the elfs laughed as he climbed uncertainly on one of the bikes. His voice wavered a bit, as though he had recently be drinking. “Stay close behind, the forest can be treacherous at the best of times.” 

“Cedric shut up and go, you lead first section.” Iorveth pushed a foot down, signalling for them all to move.

The trees cut through, Roche tried to not focus on how many branches were slashing his face open, or how his entire back had gone numb, how his wrists ached with the vibrations. The terrain was rough, rocky, hilly and they never slowed down. The elves seemed to avoid everything, making it look effortless, a small comfort to him. Instead, all that mattered was reaching Foltest before he got to Loc Muinne. He therefore almost ran into the elf in front of him, Cirian he thought, as they all stopped. 

"We have reached right before the mountains, we have to cross over on foot." Iorveth got off and flipped open a phone. "The royal convoy from Temeria just arrived, we will have to hurry." 

Weak in the legs, and still aching, he hurried after the graceful elven group. Desperate to both keep pace and arrive in time. Hopefully the assailant would want a moment of peace, isolation, that would be his time to strike. They reached the top, revealing the beautiful ruins of Loc Muinne, once a city and now a spot for the rich and scholarly to congregate. Some love the architecture, a sense of age, and beautiful spas that had developed. Others liked the mystery of the Vrans. Right now it was packed, holding major players from every northern country. 

"We must hurry." Roche started the descent, sweating badly, trying to keep the fatigue out of his voice. The others closely followed. 

"We will not be able to walk through the front gate." Cirian mentioned running behind the human. 

"I can, so you get somewhere with a sight. If this bastard is a witcher, I may need backup." He didn't even look backwards. They were so close to the gate now, almost within sight. Oddly they seemed to guarded by forces associated with Order of the Flaming Rose. 

"If he is, you are absolutely not to approach him alone." Iorveth caught up, trying to grab hold of the human. 

"Fuck that, now move." Roche grumbled, “Doesn’t matter what he is, he has got to go.” 

“You can’t beat a witcher alone!” Iorveth hissed, trying to hold him still. 

“Just need to slow him down long enough to save the king, now let me go. If you even claim to know me, you know what I need to do” 

The elf let him go, face suddenly stony. “I will get inside as soon as possible. I will see you shortly.” 

Roche ignored the promise but instead rushed towards the main gate. The elf seemed to slip down another way. He left them and ran full tilt to the gate, stopping in front of a confused and irritated looking guard. 

"And who are you?" He took special note of the dirt, sweat and torn clothing. 

"Temerian special forces now move aside." 

"I highly doubt that." 

He grumbled as he pulled out an ID, the man looked faintly surprised. "You just missed the rest of the group, they will be in the Temerian camp."

"Course now move." Not even trying to be polite he tired to push past but was stopped. 

"For the protection of all involved, no weapons are allowed in the city." 

"You can't be fucking serious." 

"Oh I am, now give them up." 

He pulled out the two pistols and handed them other to the smug looking guard. He felt the knife against a hip, but tried to keep his face irritated as he was allowed to enter the city itself. Someone was coming up to introduce themselves but he pushed past, back into a run.   
Jon Natalis stood outside of the camp, looking as serious as ever. Roche nearly ran into him as he turned a tight corner. 

"What the....Vernon Roche? What in the gods’ name are you doing here? Why do you look like you got dragged through shit?" 

"No time, where's king?" God he his sides ached, but so close now.

"In his chambers of course, what's the matter?" 

"The monk! Where is he?" 

A confused look, "With the king and Ms La Valette, she wished a private ceremony tonight. Something about blessing their first night here and praying for good luck to follow." 

"Fuck shit fuck!" He pushed, back into a full sprint. Natalis following him now, equal parts confused and angry. 

It worked until right outside the chambers where a guard blocked the door. "Sir, the king is in the middle of a holy ceremony and must not be disturbed." 

Roche wasn't a patient man, and the guard collapsed with a bloody nose, possibly broken but the door was free. Jumped over the slumped over man, he pushed through to find a beautiful decorated royal chamber. Two figures sat on the ground, kneeling and praying while a huge hunched over man with a covered face was speaking to them. They all looked over as he barged through. 

"Sir you need to move now!" Roche yelled, jumping inside, provoking a series of reactions.

Maria Luisa jumped aside, as the king leaped up obviously surprised. The window shattered behind them as the monk moved, pulling off the facial wrapping. A bald man with a scar on his head, he threw open heavy robes to expose two curved blades. A knife was soon in one of his hands, the two royals fall backwards, clearly shocked. Roche jumped at him, his own weapon difficult to draw at the moment, and only real ammunition he had was surprise itself. He hit the man in the chest hard. He staggered, but having the obvious advantage in weight, managed to stay upright. It seemed to barely bother the near monster of a man, who moved with extreme grace to pull off his assailant. Then a shot, through the previously shattered glass. Tt hit him right in the shoulder, causing the witcher to stagger, throwing the commander into the ground hard. He acted as though the hole was a minor inconvenience. 

"Fuck!" Roche rolled up, as the hulking man moved towards his king, his gait confident. Luisa was crawling back, clearly horrified. 

The witcher, single minded beside the wound, strode towards the couple twirling the knife in his hand. The commander tried to pull up, feeling that one his legs had hit the ground way too hard. The king was pulled back, but stood up, looking confident. 

"Now listen, this is a very poor decision for you. I give you this chance to draw back now before things go too far." Foltest managed to stand, a mixture of calm and complete fear. 

The witcher turned a fraction towards the commander. Roche pulled up, staggering over to intervene until he felt something hit him. He looked down to see the knife. The witcher had thrown it, into his stomach. He stared down, watching his own blood pool. Maria screamed, and Foltest took a step back. The witcher suddenly shifted left, as a shot graced his face but missed killing him. He had now moved forward, out of the field of view of the window. His face showed a lack of worry, and mercy.

"Stand back now!" That sounded like Natalis in the doorway, sounding horrified. He had only been moments behind, highlighting the very short amount of time that had passed. How precious seconds are when the end is coming. 

The witcher broke into a run pulling out his second weapon. A knife cleanly and easily going through Foltest's neck, but stopped before reaching Maria as a shot hit the ground. A warning. He instead turned, not loosing momentum and jumping out the window. He was through the glass as Foltest's body hit the ground. The king’s eyes were still open, filled his shock. The last feeling he ever had. 

Natalis said nothing, Vernon did not wait. He took a moment while moving to look into the now empty eyes. He jumped after the witcher, pulling through the window after him, hitting the rooftop. The man was far faster than his weight might suggest but anger and adrenaline allowed the commander to keep pace. Or that is what he told himself as he ran, lungs burning, heart pounding. He made it through two buildings before the witcher suddenly turned around. He almost ran into the mammoth of a man. 

"You were foolish to follow me, but thank you. I needed a way out." He spoke slowly. 

"You Bastard! You piece of shit!" Roche reached for his own knife, ignoring his little speech. He rushed at him. 

Injured and exhausted it was hardly a fair fight, the commander hit the roof of the building, feeling that a rib had definitely just broken. The cold knife still pressed into the burning pain. He wriggled but felt that this was probably the end. He had failed, Foltest was dead. It was over, and he had failed at the only thing that mattered. He allowed the pain to wash over him, let it at least be fast. Let this guilt and pain be the last emotion. 

"Come out little fox." The witcher yelled, pulling the broken and bloody commander up. It only took a moment before someone jumped down from a nearby building. The elf was holding up a sniper, his own eye not wavering from the witcher. 

"Well done, now we are going to leave." The witcher spoke calmly. 

"You’re mutations must have stripped your logic away if you think you are leaving this place alive. Well perhaps alive, kept that way for a longtime." 

"I can make the human scream." 

"You would regret it." 

"Not as much as he will." 

"Fucking shoot him you asshole!" Roche yelled loudly, trying to force air into his lungs, feeling his legs shake as the witcher pulled him upright. His vision was indicating that consciousness was limited at the moment. 

"Calm down human. You'll waste your voice." 

"I am giving you this last chance vatt’ghern, put the human down or suffer a fate worse than death." Iorveth was walking a semi circle around them, still holding the gun up. 

The witcher took the moment to punch the human in his damaged chest, causing both a grunt of pain and drop to the ground. "Shall we leave elf?" 

Iorveth lowered his weapon, face going terse. The witcher nodded. "Good move, we should move, behave and no problems." 

Roche coughed, looking down, feeling the knife still in him, probably preventing lethal blood loss. He looked up to see that the witcher was getting his way, that the elf was caving in. He wanted to scream in anger, but doing almost anything at this point was difficult.

"I have a group nearby." Iorveth motioned towards the edge of the city and towards the hills. 

Roche cursed, feeling the witcher move to pick him up, possibly throw him over a shoulder like a pathetic child. He had failed once, never again. He put a hand around the knife and pulled it out, the pain was crippling but still managed to stab into directly into the witcher's chest as he was being swung. He felt the fist hit him, as he collapsed. He lay waiting for the killing blow, but it never came. Instead, a shot rang out and the sound of something large collapsing. Roche rolled over, feeling someone help prop him up. 

"Fuck don't you dare die on me!" Iorveth was pulling a jacket apart, pushing on the now gushing wound. 

"Good shot." He gurgled, the world going black. Perhaps now he could apologize to Foltest properly.


	10. Chapter 10

People have often said that losing a parent was one of the worst pains a person could experience. Roche thought those people idiots who had obviously never been stabbed. 

“That isn’t particularly charitable Vernon. Most people in fact dearly loved their parents.” 

Roche looked down at the knife in his chest. Realizing with confusion that he had already pulled the blade out, yet there is was. Perhaps it was now there as a reminder. The wound ached terribly, along with everything else. He looked around. He was in his old apartment, peeling wallpaper and everything. Except he wasn’t alone, Foltest was sitting in the gross armchair, arms folded but looking calm. He was lying opposite on the truly gross couch. Iorveth had once asked to burn it, he remembered fondly. 

“I found mine quite tolerable, even wept when they died. Still, barely knew them. Perhaps that is the curse of royalty, we never truly know our family.” 

“It hurts.” Roche just wanted to complain, he hated the horrible pain. The wound flared again causing him to groan loudly.

“I know it does Vernon, and it will hurt for a long time. But then, little by little, it will hurt a little less, until one day you realize you never even thought once about it.” 

“I want it to end now!” 

“Yes, now you do. This will change. The pain helps us learn, helps us remember.” 

“I don’t want to remember this!” It all felt very unfair, like being lectured like this. 

“I know child.” 

“I’m not a child!” 

“You are to someone.” 

“Ya that fucking someone died too full of fisstech to know my face! Gods! It hurts!” He curled in on himself, the aching getting worse. The blade was still stuck there. 

“You have to take the blade out if it’s going to heal.” 

“I did! I pulled it free and planted in that witcher’s stupid bullshit face!” 

Foltest laughed a little, “Always so literal. No Vernon, you have to take the blade properly. It is blocking the wound.” 

“Then why does it hurt?!” 

“You were still stabbed. But taking the blade out will not be easy. There will be pain.” 

“I don’t want any of this! Just go away if you aren’t going to be helpful!” 

“Always so mouthy. I liked that about you. Never shy about your own opinions. There was a fire in you that reminded me of being young.” Foltest leaned back, smiling. 

“That’s making it hurt more.” He whimpered. 

“I know, but it will help it heal.” 

Vernon let silence reign for a moment, then uncurled himself and looked down at the blade. “It was my fault. I wasn’t fast enough, not good enough. I failed, I am just another fuck up.” 

“No one could have stopped it. Let the blade go.”   
“But I deserve this.” 

“You did fail. But my children are still around, they need protection, so does my kingdom. Do not fail them. Now it is time to let go and wake up. Someone is waiting for you.” 

“I am so sorry.” 

“I know, I know.” He smiled and got up, making the room disappear. 

“Vernon! Fuck, wake up!” Someone was screaming. It was a woman’s voice, young and desperate. 

The world swam into view, the horrible grey and painful world. Well sort of, it was still too blurry to make much out except for a shaking blonde woman standing nearby in the hospital room. She was pacing around the room. 

“Shut up.” He managed to slur out, hoping to make the sound stop, head already pounding. 

“You’re awake!” She ran over, dropping down to sit next to the bed. 

“Seems so.” His voice sounded drunk, barely able to enunciate anything. 

“We’re back in Temeria. You’ve been out for a long time.” She looked exhausted, but relieved. “I’ll go get a nurse.” 

He waited until she left to look down at the stab wound in his chest, the knife was gone. 

Natalis was the one to explain it after the fact, Ves would get lost on tangents when she tried. Plus the lady needed rest more than anything. Natalis looked grim as he sat in a hospital room, explaining how the country was falling apart. He blamed himself for Foltest’s murder, for not being around, not seeing the signs. Foltest's muder was crippling to the kingdom. Still the lords managed to hold it together, now with the traitor La Valette's help they had the heirs. She had never meant the assassination to go as far as it had. Maria Lousia herself had fled to Novigrad, the last free city. 

Roche left the hospital after two weeks, mostly discharged as the staff couldn’t deal with his repeated attempts to leave. War with Nilfgaard was quickly becoming a reality, and no good soldier would stay in bed for that. He already had a battalion planned out before checking back at the apartment. It was supposed to be a last visit. Men to be trained, plans to be made, a kingdom to save. 

It rather created a problem, or slight hitch in the plan when the place wasn’t empty. Someone sat sitting, waiting in the best chair. He stayed that way as Vernon paused in the entrance to his living room. 

“You are better.” 

“Ya, suppose so.” 

“That is fortunate.” 

“I’m not easy to kill.” 

“There is no one quite like you after all.” Iorveth rested a head on his palm, studying the human’s face. 

“Guess you don’t do sick bed visits.” 

“My bedside manner leaves much to be desired.” 

“Oh something you’re finally shit at? Gosh should put that in big letters on a sign somewhere.” 

“I did not want to be seen.” 

“I already know you have a messed up face.” Vernon dropped his empty bag, small but all he could take on the road. 

“I failed.” 

There was a long pause. “Think we all did. Odd how shitty that feels. Nilgaard failed at killing all the northern leaders. But hardly feels like it matters now.” 

“Where are you going?” 

“There’s going to be a war. Can’t let Temeria down now.” 

“Of course.” 

“What will you do?” 

“I go to join the dragonslayer Saskia in hopes of creating a city that welcomes elves with open arms. A home.” 

“Sounds about right. But I wouldn’t trust her, all politicians lie.”   
“She is honest, she is better than most. You could come with me.” 

“I can’t.” 

“You might at least consider it.” Iorveth narrowed his eye with irritation.

“You know who I was going to pick.” 

“A Patriot” A sigh. 

“I don’t consider that an insult.” 

Iorveth got up and walked over until they were a few feet apart. “I couldn’t stay with a dh’oine for long anyway.” 

Vernon laughed at that, a weirdly happy laugh. “Proud little shit.” 

“Those who live in glass houses ought not to throw insults Vernon.” A smug voice, but the elf moved closer.

Vernon matched the intent, pulling in the elf close. Now with no eye contact, feeling another’s warmth, the elf gave a very different tone, almost sad. 

“You almost died, and I could do nothing.” 

“You did everything. Thanks, I guess.” He ran a hand down the elf’s back, he had missed this. 

“I wish to stay tonight.” 

“Of course, but I leave tomorrow.” 

“Then we shouldn’t waste anymore time.” Iorveth melted into a kiss, it tasted bittersweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for sticking with this until the end! I know this was a bit on the long side but I did so enjoy writing a gratuitous amount of plot! Thank you again you lovely readers!

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of a different take but hope its alright! Chapters come out as I edit them, with next one introducing a very sarcastic elf.


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